


The Rooftop

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, College Student Will Graham, Courtship, Dirty Talk, Eventual Dark Will Graham, Eventual Smut, First Time, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Romance, Size Kink, Surgeon Hannibal Lecter, murder and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Will Graham is a loner college student in New Orleans, stuck at a terrible party one night when he happens to run into a handsome, charming surgeon in his thirties, Hannibal Lecter.  Just when Will thinks his awful luck in dating is finally turning around, he finds that being courted by Hannibal is nothing like what he expected...it's a whole lot darker, bloodier and scarier.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 105
Kudos: 692





	1. Chapter 1

_"It was the third of September, we were hanging up on the roof  
Was a hot, hot night we were having a barbecue  
And I said hi, you said hi, baby, that's when I knew  
I just, I just can't-can't take my mind off you" _  
\--Zara Larsson, "Rooftop"__

____

It was a great party; anybody would agree on that. 

From the edge of Connor’s rooftop, Will gripped the the iron railing and stared daggers into the perfect orange-pink sorbet of a sunset drifting lazily to completion over the French Quarter skyline. Someone had plugged their phone into speakers and started playing classic pop hits from the 1980’s. The peppy, wistful lyrics combined with jarring sax solos and obnoxious synth to turn Will’s stomach. 

Behind him, guests were talking, munching on mini-beignets and muffuletta skewers, downing cheap beer because even though Connor was rich as sin, cheap beer showed he was “cool.” He wasn’t such a bad guy, actually; Will had shared a few Gen-Ed courses with him before splitting off into his own major of Psychology -- Connor went into Pre-Law to become a big-shot lawyer like his dad. As king of the Tulane social scene, they could have done a whole lot worse than this self-appointed benevolent big brother with pretentiously low-brow style. 

But Will barely knew Connor, and he had come to this party for Sophie. Sophie, who was currently breaking up with him, apparently without ever having realized they were dating.

“But you’re my girlfriend,” Will argued, immediately hating himself. He sounded like a bleating goat. Still, he blundered on, as if he could talk his way through this nightmare until it made sense. “What are you doing here draped all over Connor Landry?”

Sophie’s cornflower eyes narrowed in utter bafflement. “When were we ever official or exclusive? Just because we slept together a few times --”

“And went on all those dates?” Will reminded her, wishing they could have this conversation -- if they had to have it -- when Sophie wasn’t dressed up like Madonna in the “Like a Virgin” video. The big hair and fishnets were distracting, like the music, lending comedy to a tragedy. He felt ridiculous. “And then there was that time you told me I was your favorite guy? That you saw us getting married someday?”

“Jesus, Graham, no need to take all that so seriously.” She scoffed into her plastic cup of white wine. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite as coincidental that Sophie’s words of devotion had swiftly followed a request that he help her with her term paper. In the end, he’d basically written the whole thing while she wound her long, pretty arms around his neck and cooed sweet, apparently fake words into his ear like hemlock. 

“We had fun together,” she allowed, “but as a long-term prospect? I mean, let’s be realistic. You’ve got your head in the clouds, you’re always blurting all these insights about people that are borderline invasive, out of nowhere--”

“I’m weird,” Will affirmed coldly, all the passion draining from his perception of this girl, just that easily. 

The hazy-sweet rose gauze of infatuation vanished, leaving only a selfish user before his eyes. And like pretty much everyone else, apparently Sophie found his unique personality repulsive. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Honey...you’re _quirky_ ,” she corrected him condescendingly. There was pink lipstick on her teeth, and he decided not to tell her. “But hey, let me tell you, you are _great_ in bed. And I’ll always look back fondly on the times we had together.”

“You’ll forget me in about five minutes, so why don’t you get back to the party?” Will snapped.

“No need to be bitchy about it,” she sniffed. “And by the way, next time you come to a costume party, the least you could do is actually _wear_ a costume.”

Will glanced down at his plain white oxford, khaki shorts, and brown leather sandals, which had seemed like reasonable enough attire for a hot September night at a rooftop fete. “Well, I’m not a costume kind of--”

He looked up to find her gone, and so he resumed glaring at the resplendent view, about ready to pole vault into the Mississippi River. Anything would be better than to give into tears of humiliated annoyance with himself. 

An obnoxiously shrill whistle split the air and Will turned with a wince to see Connor standing in the center of the crowd with his arm around a stranger -- an older man wearing an ocean blue polo shirt with pristine white trousers and light tan loafers, Miami Vice chic. Even this random person fit into the 80s theme of the party better than Will.

“Attention, one and all!” Connor shouted, as if the whistle wouldn’t have guaranteed it. Beside him, the stranger wore a vague smile, unbothered and in fact not particularly interested in anything that was occurring. 

“I want to introduce you all to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. This is the _hero_ ,” he clapped the doctor’s back, earning no further reaction than a mild brow lift. “Who saved my little sister Jen after that car wreck last week. That’s why I invited him here tonight -- he is my new idol in life, and I am beyond grateful, just seriously, dude, _thank_ you.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” the doctor replied smoothly. Compliments like that might make most people blush, but not him. “Merely doing my job. I’m relieved that Jennifer will make a full recovery.”

He was probably in his mid-thirties, with golden-tan skin and light brown hair that glistened with subtle blonde highlights. His eyes were a rich brown color, his lips were full, and he had these cheekbones that...Will didn’t usually notice men’s features all that much, but he’d never seen such a strikingly elegant face before.

The stranger definitely didn’t belong here, despite the suitable attire, but then again, he looked above it all, like he didn’t belong anywhere. The vibe of ineffable cool coming off him suddenly evaporated when the stranger’s eyes happened to land on Will.

Will’s eyes widened as if to say “me”? When the doctor’s bored smile broadened and his eyes went warm, drinking in the sight of Will. After all, the girls around him were all agog, murmuring to each other about the “hot doctor,” and “yes, please, daddy.” Why would this...Dr. Lecter take the slightest interest in the idiot hiding at the back of the party, the awkward one with skinny legs, messy hair and a fresh broken heart?

He told himself he must have imagined that Lecter’s face registered immediate fascination, because just that quickly the moment was over and Connor was introducing his “hero” to all his actual friends.

That didn’t explain why Will lingered at the party he should have left after being dumped...as if he felt he now had some reason to stay.

***

“Do you mind if I join you?” Hannibal asked, appearing at the curly haired boy’s side with a mild smile, although his heart seemed to be beating faster than usual. 

What on earth was it about this young man that had Hannibal absolutely salivating? It wasn’t only his looks, although the boy was breathtakingly beautiful, with wide, innocent blue eyes, soft-looking pale skin and rosy cheeks. His plain clothing only served to emphasize the stunning perfection of his slim build. The mop of unruly brunette curls made the boy even more irresistible, but beneath all that loveliness shone a sweet, brilliant, ever so slightly dangerous, deeply soulful force of life. People were usually of little interest for Hannibal, falling into easy categories of “boring” or “pigs.” Not this one. 

Luckily, the boy seemed easily swayed, melting into a shy smile. No one here seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, and he was obviously excluded from the otherwise tight-knit group of students. It never ceased to confound Hannibal, how people could so easily miss the most exquisite things in life amidst their hurry to embrace the mundane, gorge themselves to a death of spirit and ambition on it. They were dull; everything here was dreadfully dull just as he had expected, but this boy was like no one he’d ever seen.

“I warn you, I’ve recently been informed that I’m annoyingly _quirky,_ ” the boy said, self-deprecating humor doing nothing to hide the hurt in his words. 

“Is that so?” Hannibal asked, enjoying the simple act of watching the fluctuation in those gorgeous features, shifting over pain and confusion.

“I’ve got my head in the clouds,” the boy gestured skyward with the barely-sipped-from bottle of beer in his hand. “And I’m always making these insightful comments about people out of nowhere that are borderline _invasive_.”

“How interesting. Do you have any such comments to bestow on me?”

“You’re volunteering?” he laughed. “Well, I’d say this generally isn’t really your scene, that much is obvious. You’re a sophisticated, successful surgeon, what are you doing at some tacky college party thrown by a nouveau-riche frat boy? I think...you like saving your patients, because it gives you a rush of power over destiny. And you just tend to go along with the flow of life...coasting. That’s why you’re here. Nothing interesting might happen tonight...or something just might.”

“And all of that before we’ve even exchanged introductions,” Hannibal gave over his hand and felt his heart go with it, to his complete shock. A troublesome situation. He would have to do something about that. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“So I heard. I’m Will Graham. Psychology student and general disaster.”

He shrugged. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“Shouldn’t you be insulted by what I said about you?” Will asked.

“Probably.” He chortled fondly. Already feeling so outrageously fond. He felt he could gaze into those eyes forever, a ludicrous notion, yet he was undeniably entranced. “But instead I feel quite strangely charmed. And I’ve got a strong enough ego to bear the truth of what you said without substantial damage.” 

Hannibal winked and Will laughed, a real, whole-hearted laugh, not a hollow and self-abasing thing. 

“People are usually offended,” Will noted.

“People are usually stupid. Tell me, Will, why are you holding that atrocious specimen of so-called ‘beer’ in your hand? You didn’t even want it, did you? Someone probably thrust it into your hand when you arrived, and you thought it would be rude to refuse it.”

“I--” Will set the beer down on a nearby table, brow furrowed. “I guess you’re right. So, I’m not the only one with sharp observations, huh? Thought you were a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist.”

This boy didn’t miss a trick, Hannibal mused. He would need to be ever so careful, but this was going to be great fun.

“I’m a surgeon, but if one is to repair the human brain on a regular basis, it is only wise to ascribe a strong interest in its workings. Is my supposition correct as to your habitual social deference? Surely you did not take the beer because you didn’t know any better. You look old enough to have sampled your share of alcoholic beverages.”

“Hey, I’m -- I’m definitely old enough,” Will said firmly, “I’m twenty.”

He didn’t really look a day over seventeen, but Hannibal smiled and nodded. 

“I didn’t want the beer, but then again, I didn’t even want to be here. I only came so that Sophie McGuire could grind my heart into bits under her heel. Basic obligation of the meek and wildly misinformed romantic.”

“You don’t seem so meek now, with me,” Hannibal posited, taking a small step closer and scenting Will out. He smelled of ill-chosen aftershave, but also a tempting layer of youthful sweat and the light citrus hint of nervous excitement. 

How Hannibal would love to get his mouth all over that gorgeous body and _bite_ , drawing out helpless moans from Will’s sumptuous lips. How he would love to make Will come so hard he cried, then eat the boy’s still-beating heart with his cock still buried in that tight little body.

“No,” Will observed, noticing the change in his own attitude for the first time. “No, I don’t. Would you give me your honest opinion about something?”

“That I can promise to give you always, on any subject.” _In my own way._

“Okay, then who really looks foolish -- me, or that tool over there dressed like Sean Penn in Fast Times? Only asking because he likes to _trip_ me when I walk into the class we have together, like we’re ten years--”

Hannibal pressed a single finger over Will’s lips. “You are incapable of looking foolish. If you want my honest opinion, you are so attractive that it nearly defies belief.” 

Will blushed and gulped.

“You’re very alluring,” Hannibal added in a low, throaty tone. He was taking a risk, but it was well worth it to watch red blossoming across Will’s cheeks.

“I don’t...I mean I’ve never, with a man,” Will babbled, seeming to have lost his land legs. “I’m straight.”

“What a shame,” Hannibal sighed, resting a hand on his heart. “Still, I hope you will take the compliment as proof that you deserve to be spoken to in that manner, and no other.”

“I don’t know,” Will laughed, ducking his head and ruffling his curls.

“I haven’t offended you?”

“Offended? No, I’m very flattered.” Will dared to meet Hannibal’s eyes again, curious, experimenting just a bit. _Beautiful, naughty thing._ “Anyone else here would be flat on their back with their legs spread for you if you looked at them once and snapped your fingers. I have no idea why you’re talking to me.”

“What a shame again, because I don’t want anyone else here. Now then, if we may only be friends, I’ll still be quite honored if you will allow me the privilege.”

“Of course,” Will affirmed. “Friends, then.”

Hannibal grinned, flashing his fangs. “As my first act of friendship, would you mind coming inside for a moment? I have an idea as to how you can respond to the attitude you’ve been shown by your haughty little acquaintances here.”

***

Will was really confused now. At first, he was only a _little_ confused as to why this stunning older man with the exotic accent would be all over him with compliments and kindness; then, it made a bit more sense as he realized that Hannibal was attracted to him. It didn’t make the compliments and kindness insincere, but it explained the overflowing abundance and the gleaming warmth of Hannibal’s gaze. But since he himself was only into girls, why was Will’s skin getting hot and tingly the more he talked to Hannibal, the closer they stood, and why were there butterflies in his stomach? 

Hannibal’s voice was like spicy-sweet whiskey, and Will felt absolutely drunk on it; Hannibal smelled of expensive, manly aftershave and with just a hint of proximity between them, the natural heat wafting off his strong body made the world seem to sway. If it was a girl, Will would have immediately registered that he was turned on, but then, he’d never felt quite like this before, as if he couldn’t possibly help pressing closer than he really should, testing waters that had never tempted him before. 

And why the hell were they standing in Connor’s parents’ otherwise empty and dim living room? Hannibal had turned down the flirtation and agreed to be “just friends,” so they hadn’t come in here to hook up.

“Take your pants off,” Hannibal said casually. 

Okay, maybe Will had been wrong about that whole seduction thing.

“Why--”

“So that you can fit the theme of the party, Will. Haven’t you seen _Risky Business_?”

Will laughed. “Oh! Yeah, okay.” He pulled off his khakis and folded them up, placing them on the couch for now. 

Hannibal’s amber gaze flicked from Will’s slim ankles up his fully bare legs, drifting admiringly over his thighs where the white shirt hung down. “Wonderful. The transformation is almost complete.”

“Almost?” Will repeated, lost in Hannibal’s eyes. His mouth had gone dry, and he couldn’t understand the mad desire to have Hannibal’s big, strong hands on his body. He seemed to have misplaced the memory of what it was like to want anything else.

Hannibal took a pair of black ray bans from his pocket and slid them onto Will’s face. “Ah! Excellent. You far outshine a young Tom Cruise. Now, shall we?”

They strolled back out onto the rooftop, now lit in bare bulbs hanging from fairy lights all around the building as evening shadows fell.

“Hey, man, great costume!” One guest called to him, “ _Risky Business_!”

“Are you going to give us a dance?” A drunk girl asked, slurring her words and batting her eyelashes with transparent lust.

“Uh, no,” Will said, flustered, grateful for Hannibal’s steady, encouraging presence by his side.

“So, I fit in now,” he said to the doctor. “And after all this time I’ve spent wishing I fit in with these people, somehow...at the moment, I only want to be with you.” Fearfully, he met Hannibal’s eyes. “Is that crazy?”

“No. Although I do have to ask, and I promise that after this, I won’t mention it again...is the desire to be with me still only platonic?”

Will was so very grateful for the sunglasses; they made him feel like it was okay to say things he wouldn’t normally be brave enough to say. But he was still blushing scarlet as he leaned up slightly and murmured into Hannibal’s ear, “Definitely not. I’m not sure it has been, since the moment you approached me.”

“In that case, needless to say...how would you like to go somewhere a little more conducive to private conversation?”

Will slipped his fingers through Hannibal’s and the eyes of all the party-goers were instantly on them like magnets. 

The girls and boys were doing their _thing_ again, murmuring gossip like buzzing honeybees: “ _Why couldn’t it be me?”_ one girl moaned, while another grumbled, “ _too young for him_ ,” although she obviously would have hooked up with Hannibal herself in a heartbeat. “ _Didn’t know Graham was gay_ ,” that one was Connor, shrugging casually. “ _Is that guy even supposed to be hanging out here? He’s like forty,”_ someone else put in.

Will didn’t care what any of them thought, not anymore.

He gave Hannibal a big but very shy smile and said softly, “Take me anywhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Wow,” Will breathed in amazement, “I’ve, uh, never been in a bar like this before.”

It was a tiny place he hadn’t previously noticed, hidden as it somehow was among the upscale restaurants and gastropubs on the swanky street. Inside, it was dim, with a hushed glow of quiet conversation among the couples dotting the elegant bar. There were no college kids in here (besides Will, that is), only professional sophisticates. The drink menu was so extravagant that Will felt almost intimidated.

“What sort of drink is to your taste?” Hannibal asked, one elbow leaned on the bar like he owned the place, but his body language was easy and affable, not obnoxious in the least. If he was arrogant, he even made _that_ seem charming.

Confidence came to this man so easily it was like breathing, but he made it look not only effortless...his confidence and competence were winsome and likeable. Hannibal was the sort of person who made others want to trust him, instilling an automatic feeling they were safe in his hands. Intimidated? Maybe it wasn’t just the drink menu suddenly making Will realize he was in over his head.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Will admitted, belying his earlier boast of maturity.

“Allow me,” Hannibal proposed. To the bartender, he said, “I shall have a Kona Makai. And for my lovely companion here, I think, a Bon Vivant.”

“Very good, sir,” the bartender replied politely. 

They toasted to “Unexpected Revelations” when their drinks arrived, Will’s cocktail a burnt amber and Hannibal’s peach-pink like a New Orleans sunset. Will took an appraising sip of his own drink and did a double-take.

“What do you think?” Hannibal asked expectantly.

“Really delicious,” Will decided. “It’s got rye...brandy...something orangey…”

“Amer picon. A French aperitif.” Hannibal smiled in approval of Will’s enjoyment. This was new to Will, as new as any of it, to be with someone so intent on pleasing him, instead of only drawing pleasure from Will. Maybe he could even let his overactive empathy rest for the evening.

A rush of slight tipsiness crowded his brain quite pleasantly after a few more sips. It was the kind of drink you could finish too quickly, because it was so delicious that you might forget it was also very strong.

“I better take it easy on these,” he laughed. “I could really get blasted without even realizing it.”

“It hadn’t occurred to me,” Hannibal smirked. 

Will pointed at him with his nearly empty glass. “Yes it had.”

Hannibal sucked his lower lip into his mouth, called out. Will could see the wheels turning in his head as the doctor wondered how exactly he should respond. “You’re most likely a delightful drunk. It’s hard for me to resist tampering with your innocence.”

Wow, this guy had a hell of a nerve, and it was contagious. 

“Tamper away,” Will said boldly, “I like the way it feels.”

What the hell else did he have going on in his life tonight, or any other night, anyway, to compare with taking such a thrilling risk? He had nothing to lose and everywhere to fall.

“Would you like another drink, Will?” Hannibal asked, giving him a coy look that said, _I dare you._

“Yes, please,” Will said, injecting as much flirtation into his voice as he knew how to. For good measure, he leaned forward slightly, staring at Hannibal’s slightly parted lips as he added, “Dr. Lecter.”

***

“I’m having _fun,_ ” Will enthused, bright-cheeked and brighter-eyed an hour later.

Hannibal had settled them nicely at a secluded corner table where he had gestured to the bartender Louis to keep the drinks coming liberally. The more Will imbibed, the more he opened up, answering every one of Hannibal’s questions about his background, his hopes, dreams and ambitions, what he loved and hated.

There had been a lonely childhood, to which Hannibal tried not to let himself relate. A scholarship to Tulane, then listless would-be ambitions to apply his innate skill for analysis to some career or other, at present Will simply wasn’t sure. The proverbial square peg, he did not expect to fit in anywhere, was hurt by this thought, tried not to allow the hurt to calcify into resentment. 

Where would the resentment lead, that Will feared it so deeply? Hannibal could see him holding back his seething comments on classmates and professors who had shunned him, as lesser beings so often did when someone was unusually talented without knowing it. Young, brilliant and beautiful was a combination which would always be hated by those who were haplessly inferior by comparison; Will should not blame himself for his solitude, although Hannibal could tell he did. He was alone because he was unique, and it frightened him. If he only knew how much more frightening a turn his life had taken this evening.

So Will tried to be good, tried to see the good in the world anywhere he could find it, tried to see silver linings in his apparently amusing roommate who never went to class, in his fondness for the dogs he helped care for at the local shelter, and the sultry, enveloping beauty of the city, a dream for something more, always out of reach.

 _What a remarkably brave, yet bashful creature_ , Hannibal reflected in deepest admiration. _He really doesn’t know himself at all._ There was darkness under the surface of all that sweetness, a delicious, smothered urge to run wild and do very bad things. Hannibal wanted Will all to himself, and he had neatly arranged matters so that it would be almost laughably easy to achieve this goal.

“I’m glad to hear you are enjoying yourself,” Hannibal answered, feeling the warmth in his own cheeks although it wasn’t hot in the bar and he’d only sipped sparingly at his own drinks. 

He had barely spoken of his own life, giving only the sparsest intimations of his career and hobbies (art and cooking, without further detail as to his more creative pursuit and intermingling of them). Perhaps he was hiding himself, as he so often did, but also he was far more interested in hearing about Will.

Will sat back in his chair and simply watched Hannibal for a few moments, admiration and curiosity wafting from his aura. Hannibal felt a lift in his already excellent mood, and if he didn’t know any better, he might think he was glowing. If he wasn’t obviously very far above this sort of pedestrian infatuation, Hannibal might think Will wasn’t the only one here who didn’t know himself.

“Would you like to have some more fun, Will?” Hannibal reached across the table and teased the boy’s sweaty palm with one finger tracing the skin.

“Are you going to take me home with you tonight, Doctor?” Will was an excellent study, and tonight he was feeding off of Hannibal’s forward manners so perfectly that Hannibal’s cheeks were absolutely burning now. 

Hannibal’s heart squeezed and for a moment he was terrified. Was he going into cardiac arrest? It should be darkly hilarious, that thought, but really: his heart simply didn’t _do_ that. It didn’t go into overdrive for a handsome young man who had innocently gotten drunk because he was nervous flirting with an older doctor and realizing he could be attracted to a man in the first place. It didn’t skitter like a handful of dice landing haphazardly when said young man bumped a bare knee against his pant leg under the table. What was happening to him?

***

The plan about taking Will home had been straightforward and flawless, like all of Hannibal’s plans. The boy was inebriated, and would neither suspect nor probably feel a thing. He was nothing like Hannibal’s other victims, and shouldn’t suffer even for a moment.

Of course he had given some real consideration to his more salacious fantasies of taking the boy to bed first and then killing him. Yet by the time they left the party, Hannibal had decided against such an indulgence. To preserve his own feelings, he needed a clinical cut in this case.

Will, as he had originally assumed, fell into a new category of human. He wasn’t a bore. He wasn’t a pig. He was genuinely lovely in every way, clever, ravishing and delightful. If Hannibal did not kill him, Will Graham could easily become an addiction, one he couldn’t afford. There was absolutely nothing about the idea of emotional vulnerability that appealed to him in the least. The last thing he wanted was to cede over his control of his life, his meticulous sense of eternally preserved, untouchable power, to another person. 

Why on earth would he place his autonomy on a silver platter, open himself up to that sort of potential heartbreak and disappointment? That was for the bores and pigs of the world to do, and they did it all the time, and it almost always ended horribly, and then they got back up and did it again. It was something Hannibal had never understood, but one thing was certain: he could never be so foolish as to fall in love and stay in love.

No one could be as wonderful as Will Graham seemed to be. Better to end this now, before the gloss fell away from their mutual infatuation and he ended up cold and alone, either rejected by Will or ambushed by the eventual realization that he was indeed a worthless commoner just like everyone else.

“This is some place you’ve got here,” Will slurred, walking crookedly across the shining burgundy floor of Hannibal’s living room. His voice fell naturally into a deeper Southern drawl when he was relaxed, Hannibal realized, finding the musical sound incredibly enticing.

Will squinted down at the hardwood and added, “Is the floor _red_?”

“A lovely shade, I’ve always thought,” Hannibal answered fluidly. 

Hannibal caught Will by the shoulders when he stumbled a bit. He cupped the boy’s angelic face and added in a low, intimate tone as he gazed into his eyes, “But I’ve seen much prettier colors.”

Should he strangle him or use a knife, slice him open in one long, clean line then lick the messy outburst of blood which would begin lusciously oozing as Will faded from this life? 

“Hmm.” Will hugged him, which seemed an odd thing to do at this supposedly seductive juncture. 

Hannibal didn’t have the heart to lay a hand on him sexually when he was intoxicated; even he had his own sort of morality, tailor-made to fit his strict idea of honor and gentlemanly conduct. When one placed oneself above the rest of the world, one had to maintain integrity, after all. The drinks hadn’t been intended to lubricate a one night stand; they had been to relax Will and numb him to pain or worry. 

However, Will was hugging him now, and that was a problem. He thought the younger man might try for a kiss or even begin undressing and he had been prepared to stop any such overtures at the appropriate moment, but this, now…

“You smell good,” Will murmured, lips hot against his neck but not kissing. His heavy, sweaty hands pressed to Hannibal’s back, his hammering heartbeat nearly flush to Hannibal’s own. “You feel even better.”

“Will.” Hannibal was at a loss for further words. How absurd, whatever was happening to him? He could cut this off quite literally as he had intended, so why was he hugging back and melting against Will and sighing into the soft mop of curls under his nose?

“Thank you for tonight, I’ve really never had so much fun.” Will leaned back slightly and lifted a hand to clumsily paw at Hannibal’s hair, sweeping one lock back from his brow. “You’re special,” he smiled.

There was pain in Hannibal’s throat, tight and dry, and his eyes were covered over in a film of _tears_ , one of which had the audacity to trickle down his cheek, though thankfully Will was tucked into his shoulder by now and didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal said as all of a sudden, against his own will the words came, taking him by surprise. He tried to recover his senses, but he was spiraling, panicking. “I shouldn’t have let you have so many drinks.”

“I didn’t think you were trying to take advantage of me or anything,” Will said, nuzzling against his neck with that soft, warm, brandy-orange breath. “‘Sokay.”

“Come, let me help you,” Hannibal answered, guiding him to the kitchen and putting on a pot of coffee. “I don’t want you to be ill.”

Every thread of self-preservation in the whole tapestry of his soul was screaming at him to murder this boy at once and end this sentimental, weakening distraction. All of a sudden, he simply didn’t care.

“Drink that,” he said as Will sat down at the table with a confused look. 

“I feel like I’m falling asleep. Coffee doesn’t seem like the ticket, to be honest,” the boy mused, blowing obediently on the steaming drink all the same. 

“Be a good boy,” Hannibal coerced, placing a tall glass of water next to the coffee. “Drink all of this water as well. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Will drank the coffee and the water and ate the ham and cheese sandwich without questioning why Hannibal was pacing around the kitchen, and of course without frowning upon the exceedingly simple meal which was below Hannibal’s usually creative and high-brow standards. They came from different worlds; Hannibal’s was a world of opera, finest wine, foie gras and nights of brutal hunting; Will’s was of black coffee and ham sandwiches at the college cafeteria, a sparse little dorm room and hopeless attempts to connect with shallow co-eds. 

It seemed they had nothing in common, yet Hannibal saw himself in those big, hypnotizing eyes that shifted from blue to grey to green depending on the light. Now they were lazy grey, and Will’s smile was calmly accepting.

“Please don’t feel so badly about me getting drunk. I’ve been drunk before,” Will shrugged.

Eschewing the question, because for some godforsaken reason he did feel bad, bad about every single thing he’d been plotting to do to Will, Hannibal merely cleared the dishes away and announced, “I’ll call you a cab.”

“Oh, okay,” Will answered, drawing his eyes from Hannibal’s serious face and staring at the table, drawing patterns on the wooden surface that seemed frantic, although his own expression remained calm. He had clearly accustomed himself to disappointment, to the extent he knew how to hide it, and Hannibal’s heart felt well and truly broken by now.

“Unless,” Hannibal blurted like the fool he apparently was, after all. “You.” He cleared his throat. “You would like to sleep here tonight. You could have my bed for the evening.”

“That’s nice of you, but I really wouldn’t want to impose,” Will sniffed. 

He wasn’t so drunk now; he could be sensible and realize this was going nowhere, that he must have somehow overestimated Hannibal’s interest in him. Hannibal saw the train of thought taking Will somewhere very sad, somewhere the boy had been many times before, and he had to stop it at once.

“Please stay,” he said gently, going to his knees before Will’s chair, looking up at him plaintively. “I’d like you to stay.”

***

Will was embarrassed, but really when was he ever _not_? Despite him making a drunken idiot of himself with this classy, attentive, thoughtful guy, the doctor seemed somehow to still like him. It made it easier to go along when Hannibal gave him a guest toothbrush and showed him where the bedroom was, easier to get his exhausted body between the dark red, silky sheets and lay his head on the big, plush pillow. Oh, God this was a nice bed; it was like sleeping on a cloud. 

“I feel like I made it so painfully obvious, how much younger and inexperienced I am than you,” he worried as Hannibal tucked an extra blanket over him. The air conditioning in the apartment was pretty strong, refreshingly so, and it was pleasant to have that additional layer.

“Not at all,” Hannibal patted Will’s cheek with a smile so complicated that Will didn’t think he would be able to unpack it even if he wasn’t half-asleep and still about half-tipsy. 

“Will you sleep in here, too?” Will asked. 

He was already far enough out on a limb for Hannibal, so why not? Obviously, after the decidedly not-sexy way he’d gotten too drunk for them to even make out, Hannibal wasn’t going to want to see him again. At least maybe he could have one night of cuddles with this sweet, thoughtful man. Something he could keep and remember always, along with the memory of what might have been.

“If you wish.” Hannibal smiled, looking terribly pleased, and Will’s heart lifted. 

He guessed at that point the doctor must have gone into the bathroom to change into his pajamas, and climbed into bed with him soon after. But this was only a surmise on his part, because mere seconds after inviting Hannibal to share the bed, he had fallen into a deep slumber.

***

Will woke blearily before it was time to be awake. He squinted at the antique clock on the bedside table and realized it was only 4am. Hannibal must be a light sleeper, because he sensed Will’s small movements of readjusting himself in bed, and his eyes fluttered slowly open.

“Hey,” Will murmured as they lay there face to face. There was a small lamp left on across the room, as if to make it so that Will wouldn’t wake up disoriented in the darkness. He could see the way Hannibal smiled sleepily, and it was so fucking cute.

Will thought a handsome, charming doctor like this must have plenty of chances to bring people home with him, and he reminded himself not to get attached. Maybe Hannibal brought someone new to this very bed every night; who could blame him, really?

“Do you even remember my name?” Will asked very rudely, to jolt his own mind and heart away from the idea of being at all singular in anyone’s life, pretty much ever. It was a rude question, but Will couched it in a quietly flirtatious tone that he hoped would make it forgivable.

“Will,” Hannibal said, like he saw right through the younger man’s insecurity, disarming it like a bomb, a few quick snips of the yellow wire, then the blue and the red until Will’s worried eyes softened and he smiled back. 

Hannibal turned over onto his side facing away from Will, but gently took hold of Will’s hand and guided it around his middle, inviting Will to spoon up behind him. Will tucked his legs under Hannibal’s and draped one ankle over the doctor’s foot. He felt the warm, solid strength of Hannibal’s body and inhaled that heady cologne again with a sigh.

“Will Graham,” Hannibal muttered, voice thick with impending dreams before they both drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drink menu I referenced for the cocktail recipes: https://www.arnaudsrestaurant.com/menus/french-75-menu/


	3. Chapter 3

Will took a quick, guilty shower at Hannibal’s in the morning, then politely declined the older man’s offer of breakfast. He couldn’t believe what an ass he’d been the night before, even for him -- throwing himself at Hannibal, then drinking until he was nothing more than a burden and the doctor had to _take care of him_ like some pathetic kid. 

Obviously it wasn’t the hot night of passion which he had led Hannibal to expect with all his flirting, and he had _wanted_ that hot night of passion, goddammit, so why was he such an eternal fuck-up? It never seemed to end.

Despite Hannibal’s very kind and expected remarks that he was welcome to stay longer, Will dismissed the invitation for the mere sympathy it must be and nearly bolted out of the doctor’s posh apartment. He needed to go back to campus to simmer in his own stew of self-hatred, not waste any more of Hannibal’s time.

“ _Dude_ ,” Will's roommate Grady enthused when Will came back to their dorm room at 9am, hair still wet but wearing last night’s clothes. “You get lucky last night?”

The slacker gave him a thumbs up from his position sitting on the floor by the window taking a deep drag off a joint.

“Uh,” Will sighed, taking in the familiar haze of smoke and the friendly, pleased look on Grady’s face. “No.”

Grady was probably the nicest person Will knew at school, but he also never went to class and was in danger of being expelled any day now. Despite getting into the school on high SAT scores, his roommate had no interest in doing anything but languidly enjoying life one moment at a time, sitting on the floor smoking and pondering the mysteries of existence ( _are Cheez-Its actually better than Better Cheddars?_ ), or sprawling on the grassy commons outside with his small coterie of fellow hippies pointing out cloud animals.

“Too bad, man, you need to have fun sometime, ya know? By the way, which movie do you think is like definitively superior, _Wrath of Khan_ or _Empire_?”

“I don’t know, Grady, I might have to call that one a tie,” he shrugged.

“Indeed,” Grady replied ponderously.

Will rifled through his dresser for a clean outfit to wear to class. On a regular day, he generally wore one of the many generic, well-broken-in t-shirts he kept in small, tightly folded bundles in his drawer next to his neat stack of Old Navy shorts. 

Grabbing up the typical items of his attire, he headed off to the bathroom to change, wishing instead he could take a day off to just wander the city and think until things made sense again -- but had they ever made sense in the first place? Did they make more sense now, after meeting Hannibal? He wondered as he quickly pulled the t-shirt over his head and buttoned his shorts. Was that what had left him so shaken?

Grady’s words came back to him: _”you need to have fun sometime."_ He also remembered, if a bit woozily, that he had told Hannibal last night was the most fun he’d ever had. It hurt that this was so fucking true, and that he was already denying to himself it could happen again, much less go further.

A stolen day of wanderlust would actually make him feel a lot better, he thought, but Will didn’t take days off. He didn’t want to disrespect his professors or seem ungrateful for his scholarship. Plus, let’s face it, getting a high GPA here was one of his best shots at achieving an actual career after graduation, whether in psychology, criminal justice or teaching. These were all options he had considered at length without quite concluding which would provide him the magic elixir of comfortable income and helping others without having to actually interact with anyone too much.

When Will got to Professor Nelson's 10:30 Abnormal Psychology, he was immediately reminded why he tended to see this class as his own personal minefield. Dan Hopkins stuck his foot out to try to trip Will as usual, prompting Will to roll his eyes and neatly step over his ankle. “Loser,” Dan hissed malevolently.

Will was quite used to this treatment, as it was the one he had received from grade school onward. A bully could always smell the insecurity on him from a mile away, and his savant-like aptitude in class, wherein he sometimes corrected the teacher or made eerily accurate observations about the unbalanced mind, only made it easier for his classmates to label him a ‘freak.’

He had accepted that college was little more than “high school: the sequel,” that at least he was one step closer to real adult life. But still, the cruel treatment pained him. Will’s heart was weighed down with disappointment and covered with childhood scars that kept his reactions passive, at least on the surface.

In a split second burst of ecstatic inspiration, Will longed to stab a pencil deep into Dan’s eye, grab him by the throat and throw him to the floor, then bash his head in with his laptop. He ignored the impulse, thinking fearfully that the visions were getting sharper and more specific lately. While he told himself he would never act on such murderous urges, at this moment he could almost smell the blood that would cake Dan’s head and pool out across the linoleum floor; he could imagine himself splashed with it, _glorying_ in it. 

“So,” Sophie chirped up from her usual spot at the desk next to Will’s, “What went down between you and that doctor last night?” She examined her nails as if half-interested, but the gossip-munger in her must be chomping at the bit. 

“Nothing,” Will answered, opening his notebook and neatly folding it over to a fresh page, setting his pen on top. A series of flashbacks to Hannibal’s sweet, handsome smile and warm arms around him arrived to take him away from this dreadful place, back to the fantasy world of last night. His pen rolled onto the floor as he added firmly, “We’re just friends.”

“Didn’t look like that to me,” Sophie replied as he retrieved his pen with a shaking hand. 

No, it hadn’t felt much like friendship, not in Hannibal’s bed with their legs intertwined--

“And it _also_ doesn’t seem like it took you that long to get over me, after that whole speech you gave me last night, the sob story of your epic love--”

He squeezed his eyes shut, successfully overcoming the potent desire to see if he could fit that phone she was always on right down her throat to end her vile comments forever.

“You’re right,” Will snapped. He didn’t _want_ these violent thoughts; he wanted the romantic fantasy world, the one starring himself and Hannibal, and she was ruining it for him when it was all he got to keep from their encounter. “I was never in love with you, and it was naive of me to ever think so. You’re really not even my type.”

Sophie looked angry now, as if Will’s love for her had been a trinket she kept up on a shelf with all the other broken hearts of people she toyed with, and he was marring her perfect collection. “Well, there’s no need to be a heinous bitch about it, Graham,” she retorted.

***

“Dr. Lecter, can you look over this chart?” A nurse asked Hannibal, interrupting his deep reverie as he hovered by the hospital's employee lounge, restlessly toying with his phone. 

The petite woman, who had a pinched face like a bird’s, thrust the clipboard at him so aggressively that he gave her one of his deadliest glares, causing her to gulp and take several steps backwards.

“Please?” She tacked on with annoyingly late politeness.

Hannibal frowned. “Although I am on a break, I am always happy to review patient charts, if you would simply wait for me to accept the file before launching it in my direction,” he glanced at her name badge and added, “Ms. Lidwell.”

“Sorry, Doctor, it won’t happen again; it’s just that Dr. Fremont really wanted your input, and she told me to hurry,” The nurse continued babbling inane excuses as Hannibal read the chart at lightning speed, making an easy conclusion from his findings. 

“Surgery should wait until tomorrow morning; let Mr. Cahill rest tonight.” Hannibal made some notes and handed the chart back, making a great show of doing so with gentle grace.

“Thank you, and again, Dr. Lecter, I’m so sorry--”

“Really, Ms. Lidwell,” he smiled, “I assure you it is quite forgotten. Please enjoy the rest of your evening; I hope your shift won’t be too taxing.”

He was certainly going to kill her later, but for now, there was the matter of his phone, resting heavily in his hand as he turned it to and fro, trying to decide what on earth to do about Will Graham.

While it would make most sense to simply forget the boy and move on with his life, unencumbered by any emotional entanglements, Hannibal found himself unwilling to be sensible. He was even beginning to find the experience of _not_ being sensible or logical rather unexpectedly thrilling, and so he walked out into the hospital gardens and called Will’s phone, grateful he had at least been able to cajole the younger man for his number before Will fled his apartment for reasons unknown. The mystery was tearing him apart inside in the best ways and he _had_ to know what Will was thinking and feeling, had to see him, as soon as possible. 

“Will, this is Hannibal Lecter,” he said smoothly into the voicemail box, but then his usual confidence stumbled right out of the gate. What else should he say? He was not used to particularly caring this much about the impression he made on an attractive conquest; in fact, he usually assumed it to be a given he was completely irresistible. 

But now…

“Uh,” he said, “I would very much like to hear your voice again today, if you would like to give me a call back. And, uh, I…” 

How remarkable! He really felt quite out of depth.

“Thank you, Will, for the gift of your company last night. Hope to hear from you soon.” Smiling to himself, he pocketed his phone and went back to his shift with a new skip in his step.

He caught up with Nurse Lidwell a few hours later, when her car happened to break down on a quiet backroad she was so unfortunate as to opt for as a shortcut on her way home.

***

Will kept getting texts and voicemails from Hannibal, not at an obsessive or inappropriate rate, but just one every few days or so, at first. The contact tapered off eventually, as the next two weeks passed in a blur of confused melancholy. The messages had been simple, asking how he was and hoping they could talk soon, but Will knew Hannibal was just trying to be nice. They came from very different worlds, and if Will kept his distance now, he’d be doing Hannibal a favor. So why couldn’t he stop reading and rereading the texts, or listening to that sexy, rumbling voice pouring honey over the words, “I’d love to hear from you soon”?

It didn’t bother Will to find out he was interested in men as well as women, but he was still feeling deeply intimidated at the idea of intimacy with Hannibal, mostly because he wanted it so damn much. He wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do, and he’d only let Hannibal down with some hopelessly awkward attempts to please him that would never work. 

One afternoon, Will sat on his bed in the dorm room, alone with the piles of Grady’s laundry that nearly covered the floor. He tried to focus on his studies, but his notes for Cognitive Psychology blurred in front of his eyes. He was almost grateful for the knock at the door which gave him a break from preparing for an exam that should have been easy, but now every chapter and note card just seemed so impossibly boring.

“H-hannibal?” he said weakly when he opened the door to find the tall, broad-shouldered, magnificent specimen of a mature man standing in the hallway with students passing to and fro around him. He could not have looked more supremely out of place and Will loved him for it. “What, uh, what’re you doing here?” he asked, as best he could manage to speak with his heart in his throat.

Hannibal was even more gorgeous than he had remembered.

“As you haven’t replied to my messages, I came here to ascertain whether you were alright,” Hannibal announced, looking prim, superior, and more than a little hurt. “As it seems you are quite fine, and must have ignored me for other reasons, I’ll go now and spare you any further attempts at contact.”

“Hey, stop it, I’m glad you’re here,” Will pleaded, putting a hand on Hannibal’s elbow. “Do you want to come in and talk?”

“I certainly don’t want to inconvenience you,” Hannibal said crisply, nonetheless entering the room. Will closed the door behind him and rubbed his hands together, belatedly wondering how he looked. Glancing down at himself, he remembered he was wearing a faded Tulane t-shirt and shorts, his feet bare. His hair was tousled more than usual from his nervous habit of pulling at it, and there was a layer of stubble on his face from neglecting to shave. 

Still, he smelled okay, and he would take that as a small bit of relief. Hannibal was wearing a flawless dark blue suit with a white shirt left open at the collar, and wow, he looked good enough to eat.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked as Hannibal’s eyes tracked over the room, from Grady’s sloppily strewn belongings to Will’s spartan side, just his bed and textbooks and the small bureau with his clothes folded inside, nothing atop it but his favorite books about fishing and boats, and some of the Victorian novels he’d bought for a literature elective and kept because he enjoyed them so much. 

On the window-sill, he’d placed his collection of small porcelain dog figures, all different breeds; he’d gathered them over the years from random antique shops and yard sales in the many towns he had lived in as a kid. They were souvenirs, pieces of himself to carry around, a reminder that someday he could buy a little house of his own in the woods somewhere and just _stay_ in peace, get himself a whole lot of dogs and escape the prying eyes of the world who always showed such revulsion to his weirdness. 

Maybe twenty was kind of young to be thinking about becoming a recluse.

Maybe twenty was way too _old_ to have a series of dog figures lined up on your window-sill. Will suddenly felt embarrassed and wanted to sweep them away, but when Hannibal’s eyes landed on the merry assortment of tiny dogs, he smiled.

“What would you like to get me, Will?” Hannibal asked, his wary attitude now colored by faint amusement.

“I have...bottled water,” Will said, flustered, “And somewhere, I think, single-portion packets of lightly salted almonds.”

Their eyes met, Will’s anxious confusion colliding with Hannibal’s flimsy attempt to remain angry with him, and all of a sudden they were both laughing. 

“Water would be fine,” Hannibal said, chuckling. 

Will handed him a bottle and gestured to the bed. “Wanna sit down?”

Hannibal found a spot somehow, in the midst of crumpled notebook pages and chewed-up pencils. Will blushed and grabbed the school supplies up self-consciously, moving them to the bureau. “Shit, sorry, I’m usually much neater than this.”

“I can see that,” Hannibal noted, “Much neater than your roommate, under normal circumstances. What has you so unusually distracted of late, may I ask?”

Will looked up through his lashes, considering his options: keep pretending he felt otherwise, or just put it all out there, like Hannibal had, really, by showing up.

“You,” Will murmured, his heart pounding. They were sitting so close, if Will shifted over even slightly their thighs would be touching. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls or texts.”

“Your choice to do so made me think you had lost interest,” Hannibal admitted. 

He had his hands planted on his knees, tightening a bit now, hair falling across his brow revealing an early sheen of slight silver. Will realized it was killing him to be this vulnerable, that this was something Hannibal simply didn’t do. He wasn’t the sort of person to chase someone, to want anything he might not be able to have. It was so flattering, so overwhelming that Will ached to reach out to him.

“I thought you were just calling me to be nice, because you felt bad for me. I...didn’t want you to feel obligated.” Will scratched behind his ear, wishing he had a better explanation. It sounded really pathetic and cowardly when he said it out loud.

“Let’s get one thing out in the open right now,” Hannibal said a bit testily. He looked quite sternly at Will, and Will flushed pinker in response. “I’m not that nice, Will. Was there anything in my attitude towards you the night we met which led you to believe I see you as a charity case?”

“No, I mean--”

“No,” Hannibal said, standing up and walking around the room, his restless frustration interrupted by Grady’s city of laundry. “No indeed. It was, in fact, you who rushed out on breakfast, who left me in the dust without even a chance to talk and discuss how we both felt.”

“People don’t usually want to talk about how they feel, Hannibal. It’s just -- I guess maybe I’ve been conditioned by experience to expect rejection, and God: look at you, look at me. I was just trying to make it easier for you to get rid of me,” Will finished, only making Hannibal more aggravated.

“How can you make such outlandish assumptions? I’m looking at you, Will. And I want to know you. More than anything.” Hannibal swallowed, hands in his pockets, heart on the line. Will stared at him in astonishment. 

_More than anything…_ More than anything else in his luxury life, this wildly attractive, intellectual man wanted to know Will Graham. Will simply couldn’t fathom how it was possible; he thought he must be hallucinating.

Hannibal sighed. “I didn’t come here to scold you.”

“What did you come here for?” Will asked, voice soft and pliant as bruised rose petals.

The doctor sat down on the bed again and clasped Will’s face, then leaned in and kissed him soundly on the mouth, taking Will’s breath away. His hands scrambled over Hannibal’s elbows as the older man kissed him slowly, attentively, and expertly. 

Hannibal’s lips were soft and smooth, while Will’s were chapped, and on the doctor’s breath there was a faint taste of mint; absently Will thought he must have had lunch and brushed his teeth before coming over, which was endearing...but the world was shrinking down to contain nothing more now than the feeling of these kisses, so soft but achingly erotic. Shivers ran down Will’s spine and heat gathered tightly in his low belly as Hannibal traced his mouth with his tongue, wetting Will’s lips and making it so easy to open up for more.

When Hannibal kissed him deeper and their tongues slid together, Will moaned into his mouth. The world changed again, flipping upside down. He was just that easily lying under Hannibal, fingers clutched on his shirt at his sides, Hannibal caressing his face and playing with his hair as he went on bestowing lingering, exploring kisses, sighing and humming against Will.

For a while, as he lost himself in a daze of blissful langor, Will thought perhaps this was because he’d never kissed a man before; that it was a different experience altogether, all that masculine heat, the difference of taste and smell, a heavier body lying atop him and effortlessly pinning him down. All of that was wonderfully new and arousing beyond what he could have imagined, but really, it was just that no one had ever given Will a real kiss before. 

These kisses weren’t given and taken as a hasty prelude to fucking, no, they were a long-lasting, tenderly enveloping gift with no further intention involved. Minutes began to slip by as Will gave himself up further, tipping his face up as Hannibal kissed his neck. 

And he wondered surreally how could this be happening here, in his dorm room on this thin mattress, the weak bedframe already shaking under their combined weight...the dog figures in the window a remnant of his childish dreams, and he was a man, but at heart just as much a dreamer as he was back then, as easily breakable as porcelain.

“Do you need to go to class soon?” Hannibal murmured, kissing his throat.

“No,” Will whispered, pulling Hannibal’s shirt out from the waistband of his pants. _Wrong order,_ he thought as he rectified the error by pushing the fancy blazer from the older man’s shoulders.

Hannibal hovered above him, breathing hard and looking at Will astounded, as if _Will_ was the amazing component of this encounter. Something about Will’s impatient hunger to take his clothes off seemed to entirely undo Hannibal; the older man growled and began kissing his neck more hungrily, the tentative presses of lips turning into insistent, wet open-mouthed kisses. Hannibal nosed up along Will’s neck as Will tangled his fingers in silky-smooth hair, disheveling it proudly. The doctor was smelling him in a single-minded sort of obsession that should seem very strange, and it was strange, but there was something so animalistic about it underneath all the layers of Hannibal’s perfect composure that Will was now getting very hard, very fast. Hannibal grazed his teeth over the pulse point in Will’s throat and although Will wanted him to bite, suck, leave marks on him, Hannibal merely squeezed his eyes shut and let out a soft moan of deprivation.

“We should stop,” he suggested raggedly, and Will knew stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, so why…

“We _should?_ ” Will drew Hannibal’s face near his own and smiled at him incredulously. “You don’t have to handle me with kid gloves, Hannibal, I thought we’d been over this. I’d love to keep going.”

“You have the rest of today off from classes?” Hannibal asked, and it was a really funny thing to ask considering the way he was still panting a bit; they both were, mainly from the exertion of holding back from each other.

“Yeah,” Will said honestly, hoping maybe now Hannibal would tear his clothes off and fuck him to within an inch of his life. He didn’t know why he wasn’t afraid of the experience being different and probably even painful; he just wasn't, he just wanted it. It was nice to allow himself to want things, even to want someone. 

“Very well then.” Hannibal sat them both up and pressed a gentlemanly kiss to Will’s knuckles. “Let me take you out, the right way this time.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.”_  
― Daphne duMaurier, Rebecca

“Okay, I’m ready,” Will smiled bashfully, reemerging from the bathroom in the one pressed button-down shirt he’d been able to find in the closet. Paired with the slate grey trousers from his high school graduation, the outfit looked much more appropriate for a date with someone so debonair, or at least it was the best Will could do. 

Hannibal drank the sight of him in, his lips curved in approval, eyes coasting over Will’s now clean-shaven face so that Will almost felt his fingers caressing over the smooth, sensitive skin. He couldn’t believe this was happening; couldn’t believe only a little while ago he’d been locked in Hannibal’s embrace, and they’d kissed so long he still felt a tingle in his lips, reminding him this _was_ real.

“Shall we, then?” Hannibal asked, taking Will’s hand as the younger man raised his eyebrows.

“You really don’t care about what other people think, do you?” Will interlaced their fingers as they walked through the dorm and everyone they passed paused to stare. 

He was faintly curious as to what had the majority of them so intrigued, the gay part or the obvious age gap or both, but there was something very delicious about flaunting their intimacy in the open. 

Hannibal glanced at him, amber eyes twinkling. “Generally, no, but in this instance I’m especially pleased to allow others to see us clearly together.” 

As they walked outside into the blistering heat, Will thought nothing would ever be hotter than Hannibal adding, “I am proud to be with you, and also eager to demonstrate to any on-lookers that you are spoken for.”

“Spoken for?” Will looked up at him as Hannibal stood there calmly holding open the door of his sleek black Bentley. 

Now, he knew damn well it was far too soon to be talking about commitment. This was barely their second date, he hardly knew the man, they had a big difference of maturation and experience between them and there was no way to tell if they could ever make it work. But those were questions for way down the road from now. If by some miracle they were still dating in a month or two, _maybe_ commitment and a future together could come up.

So why did Hannibal’s too-fast, too-possessive words send a thrill down Will’s spine?

“I don’t care what other people think of me,” Hannibal said, and his demeanor was sinister and serene all at once. 

He hovered in Will’s personal space, then swept an errant curl behind his ear before tracing Will’s ear with a slow, sensuous touch. This was how he liked to touch, as if he had all the time in the world to indulge every small, wonderful curiosity about Will’s form. It was engrossing, all-encompassing. Will gulped and stayed absolutely still, a fascinated deer in the headlights.

“And I’m not concerned with traditional mores or expectations. I’m old-fashioned in some ways and I do find the idea of courtship beautiful in its delicacy. I would very much like to court you, my Will, but it won’t be in a manner you would receive from any other. I cannot promise you it will be to your taste.”

Will was gawking at him by now, racked with fear and desire; there was a low-level current of menace running just barely under the surface of Hannibal’s ornate professions that floored him. He trembled for it in trepidation; he ached for it, too. The ache washed over him in a luscious, pained craving, and his fingers landed on Hannibal’s chest, his eyes locked onto Hannibal’s deep, dark stare. He knew he should not get in that car; something was wrong about all of this, and he had dead-on instincts; never had one of Will’s premonitions failed to be proved right.

“Would you like to return to the dorm, Will?” Hannibal asked, intuiting his anxious inner struggle.

“No,” Will said, deciding in that split second. A moment before he thought he might actually bolt. 

Who knew being given the palpable creeps could be a heady aphrodisiac? Or perhaps it was just the way they seemed to instinctively understand one another so well, feeding off each other’s attraction until the chemistry between them was blaringly, euphorically irresistible.

“You’re not like anyone else.” Will smiled, putting it all together in a surprisingly apt conclusion. “That’s exactly why I like you so much.”

“You’re not like anyone else either, Will. Are you worried you are simply looking for a safe place to fall at last? I must warn you, you will not find that here with me.” Hannibal spoke gently, but emphatically.

“Good,” Will murmured intently, leaning up to brush a kiss to his lips. Drawing back, satisfied with the awestruck look on the doctor’s face, he asked, “Where do you wanna go?”

“A complex question, Will. While in fact I would like nothing more than to convey you to my bed this instant, I did say something about courtship.” 

As Will’s cheeks flamed, Hannibal continued, “And so I want you to show me somewhere in the city you go to feel comfort and enjoyment. Bring me into your world.”

Will grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

***

“I think I know why you chose this place,” Hannibal mused, looking around the small, quirky bookshop with approval.

“You’re not the only one who knows a few little secret spots in N’awlins,” Will smirked, tapping a finger to the side of his nose. 

Will soon occupied himself with sifting through some of the newest acquisitions laid out on a table, a box set of Agatha Christie paperbacks, then a large hardcover edition of Dante’s _Divine Comedy_ with sumptuous color illustrations. Hannibal came up close beside him and muttered into his ear, “That accent of yours is having a very definitive effect on me, Will.”

“It comes out to play sometimes,” Will said with a sunny smile, looking so open-hearted it took Hannibal’s breath away. “I was raised all over, like I _think_ I drunkenly babbled to you the night we met.”

“You are delightful company, whatever your state of mind.” Hannibal watched Will’s handsome profile with steady interest, although his supposed motive for lingering was to handle a beautiful old copy of _Rebecca_ with weathered corners on its plum-hued cover. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Will wandered towards the gothic literature, and Hannibal trailed him into the tight confines of overpacked shelves. He pointed to his own head and elaborated, “It gets dark in here sometimes. I can be a lot to handle.”

“So I’ve perceived. Doubtless you’ve noticed it’s far from a deterrent to me; in fact, it makes you all the more intriguing. Do you dream in shades of dread and shocking hunger, Will?” 

Will’s vivid blue eyes flitted nervously over the spines of books, Poe, Radcliffe, Shelley and Stoker, as he fell prey to a small shiver. Chewing his lower lip, he declined to answer at first.

Smiling, Hannibal lifted the purple volume still in his hand. “‘ _Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again._ ”

“You’ve read it?” Will asked eagerly, stepping closer as his discomfort with Hannibal’s observations ebbed.

“I’m ashamed to say I haven’t read it as yet, though I’ve seen the film. Is the book a favorite of yours?”

“Yes,” said Will, as if he spoke of a very dear friend, “It’s wonderful. That’s it, you have to have it. I’m getting this for you.” He took the book as their fingers brushed and he gave Hannibal a coquettish lash flutter. 

“A gift?” Hannibal asked, deciding not to comment that the price was still quite exorbitant despite the wear and tear, because it was an old and rare edition. “Surely not a ‘thank you’ gesture.”

“A ‘thank you’?” Will pondered, strolling around the corner to the Elizabethan drama, and Hannibal could tell he was enjoying himself, playing with their developing flirtatious rapport, putting his back -- and consequently, his succulent behind -- to Hannibal with knowing sways of his hips. “You’re asking if I’m trying to thank you, for coming to me for the same reasons other people run away?”

“Our friend Poe would say, ‘ _There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion._ ’” 

Hannibal badly wanted to pin Will against the nearest bookshelf and hook the boy’s legs up around his hips, kissing him hard and groping his ass until they were dismissed from the premises. 

He let the idea linger untasted, knowing he had achieved something special and precious already, which was admittance within Will’s careful walls of stubborn self-protection. Will was so relaxed and trusting with him in this moment that he even flirted freely and adorably well, exuding a sensuousness to match the sweet scent of his quiet arousal in Hannibal’s presence. Now was not the time to push harder, but to appreciate and luxuriate in the many possibilities at hand.

“ _‘There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so,’_ ” Will countered as they passed the Shakespeare volumes. “Maybe I just thought I was awful all this time because I hadn’t met the right person yet. Maybe we all think we’re somehow lacking until we meet our person, you know?”

Hannibal paused, holding the copy of _Rebecca_ not fully cognizant he was already caressing the cover because it was a gift from Will. There was an odd sensation in his face again, heat radiating in his cheeks as an inability to summon a clever reply left him momentarily bereft of doing anything else.

“Dr. Lecter,” Will marveled, _drawling_ his words again with a Southern lilt. He kissed Hannibal’s burning cheek and sighed, “Are you blushing?”

Hannibal patted his own cheek self-consciously. “Is that what this is?”

“Tell me _your_ favorite Shakespeare quote,” Will said softly, still standing very close.

“It is always difficult to choose just one, but at this moment…” Hannibal put one hand on Will’s shoulder, then stroked his fingers in a slow massage over the well-defined bicep, gazing wondrously into the younger man’s eyes. “‘ _My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite._”

Will’s pupils dilated and his breath caught. Hannibal knew the material of that thin cotton shirt was already sticking slightly to the boy’s skin on this hot day in the weak sputter of the bookshop’s ceiling fans. The fabric would be warm and moist, and he envied the damn _shirt_ its closeness to perfection. Underneath his smooth, damp skin, Will’s heart must be pounding fiercely. 

Hannibal still fantasized about holding Will’s heart, but the vision no longer continued on to squeezing it until it burst like a ripe fruit, eating it as lifeblood oozed between his own fingers to be licked in the feral heat of carnivorous satiation. Now he feared this would not provide long-lasting satisfaction to his growing obsession; the obsession itself was beginning to bloom past merely loving the way Will made him feel. Perhaps, in fact, he was getting to love _Will_. 

Was this how it truly happened, fast and startling and half-horrifying in its vice-clutch, turning one inside-out and ruining every pretense of cool imperviousness to sentiment?

“Too heavy?” Hannibal asked, watching Will’s throat bob as his mind worked the question.

“Yes.” Will leaned up slightly and planted a soft but wet kiss to Hannibal’s lips, making the doctor’s trousers feel suddenly uncomfortable, much too tight. Anticipatory pleasure pooled hot in his groin as he raised his light brows to Will’s interesting response.

“I want more,” Will smiled, greedy and all the more gorgeous for it. “Not least of all because your accent is having a definitive effect on me, too.”

“Then let me cook for you tonight.”

“As a thank you for the book?” 

Hannibal knew Will didn’t usually smile so much, and the unique privilege of making it happen also had his own head spinning. To be any part of the inspiration for such beauty...he must provide a suitable tribute soon, as it could not be properly contained in his heart, nor fully expressed even through drawings or composing a piece on piano, although surely he would do both. There was only one artform which could properly convey his deepening feelings, and only one aspiration filling his bloodstream and making him dizzy with want: the hope that in the carnage-streaked canvas, Will would hear the adoring symphony of their souls intertwined.

“I do thank you for the book,” Hannibal replied, setting his wildly surging thoughts aside as best he could. 

As they walked to the register, he added, “But the real reason for the invitation is that I simply don’t want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Will answered, sublimely sweet and _teasing_ again. He had absorbed enough of the true Hannibal to know he was playing with fire, and that only made his attitude more pleasing. He was absolutely such a brave boy.

Hannibal watched silently as Will paid for the book with a debit card that had a small crack in one corner, slipping the card back into his beat-up leather wallet. He carefully rolled over the top of the paper bag with a prideful smile at his unusually expensive purchase, which would probably set him back a month with whatever small income he currently lived on. 

Based on what Will had told him, Hannibal supposed there might be a meager profit from the occasional boat repair, and not much else aside from the cafeteria credits included in his scholarship. From anything he had thus far gleaned, the boy’s father was shamefully neglectful and most likely did not provide financial support. Will had mentioned in rueful passing that he did not even know where his father was living at present and had not heard from the man in months.

How could anyone so cruelly fail to appreciate and care for the treasure in their life? Hannibal had never been a father, but he had been a guardian of sorts to his sister before her death, young though he had been himself. He couldn’t imagine abandoning one’s child, but he could imagine caring for Will in his own way and helping to ease the pain caused by all the sad loneliness which the boy had endured in his young life so far.

No one had raised Will to portray gracefulness in his movements or eloquence in his language, but somehow Will was capable of both to measures that rendered Hannibal quite enraptured. He walked now with easy, elegant strides which made Hannibal conjure many lovely visions of other ways the young man would prove flexible and adroit...with the right amount of experience, of course, and the right partner to guide him.

***

“Can I help you cook?” Will asked, following Hannibal inside his apartment and into the well-appointed kitchen with its smooth grey soapstone countertops and shiny appliances.

“A kind and much-appreciated offer, Will. But that would ruin the surprise.” He gave Will a smart, pointed look that made the younger man’s knees weak. “Perhaps you’d like to freshen up, then go through to the library. Relax and explore for a while, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Perhaps I’d like to do that, or perhaps I wouldn’t,” Will said thoughtfully, approaching Hannibal with a sly look. He pressed a fingertip to Hannibal’s chest and trailed it down to his stomach, feeling the doctor’s breath hitch with a gratifying jolt of excitement.

“But either way, you’d like me to do as I’m told. Is that right?” He raised his eyebrows, curiosity making him bold.

“I want you…to obey me.” Hannibal leaned Will against the counter and breathed his scent in deeply, and if he was going to keep doing that, Will really needed to invest in a better aftershave, maybe even a cologne? He wouldn’t know where to start, but God...Hannibal was touching him again, his face, his neck, his chest, light, fluttery sweeps of expert fingers with which Will desperately wanted to be torn apart and made new, transformed into who he truly was, who he was meant to be. Hannibal knew how to bring it all out of him, and Will’s fear of that was evaporating more by the moment. 

“I think I will,” he smiled, feeling exhilarated. “I bet you’ve got quite the library.”

***

Of course, he did, as Will discovered once he’d “freshened up” and wandered into the library. It was a cozy room, and the walls were a rich, vibrant red that seemed to enfold him. Two walls were taken up by expansive bookshelves filled with eclectic selections from medicine and psychology to literature, history, art and music. On the wall opposite an appealing window-seat was a large painting of a black tree with skinny, gnarled branches twisting all the way up to the ceiling. 

He occupied himself comfortably enough between a small stack of randomly chosen books and looking out the big window onto the street below, although the savory aromas emanating from the kitchen were beginning to make his stomach grumble.

Hannibal walked in to find Will with a particularly dreamy expression, a finger planted between pages of a book on his lap, eyes cast to the flow of passers-by on the sidewalk. 

After showering, he’d gone into Hannibal’s room and found some of the older man’s clothes to borrow, since his own outfit had been rendered a bit sweaty over the course of the day. The simple attire of a white t-shirt and grey pajama pants would be instantly recognizable to Hannibal as his own, especially given the way they fell baggy around Will’s smaller body. He didn’t comment on the change, except to smile his approval. Will had guessed he had Hannibal’s permission to make himself at home and behave accordingly, helping himself to what he liked, and the pleased look on the doctor’s face confirmed this.

“Is people-watching a favorite hobby of yours?” Hannibal asked.

“Sometimes,” Will reflected. 

The doctor’s sleeves were rolled up, immediately drawing Will’s eyes to his muscular forearms and large, capable hands.

“I guess I find people fascinating, but it’s much safer to observe them from here, behind glass.” He shrugged.

“You’re not only on the other side now,” Hannibal replied, coming to sit beside him, taking Will’s feet into his lap and beginning to caress his ankles. “You’re on the inside.”

The casual gesture of domesticity touched Will’s heart; he was being touched in all sorts of places no one had ever bothered to pay attention to before. 

“Hmm. I saw a book in here that looks like it’s about Lithuania, but I couldn’t make any of it out of course, because it’s in Lithuanian.” He chuckled.

“But you were interested enough to try,” Hannibal observed, looking flattered.

“Well, I don’t know anything about your country. I’d love to know more.”

“There is one part of it you are already coming to know very well, and I hope you will continue….wanting to know more.” Hannibal left a pause to fill with the pleasurable sort of tension as his hands wandered up Will’s pant-legs to stroke his calves. “As such, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”

Will reached down and took one of Hannibal’s hands, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d love to.”

***

“It’s nothing too impressive,” said Hannibal reductively by the third course. “Merely a simple sheet-pan jambalaya, but I remembered you mentioning the dish as one you enjoyed.”

“Nothing too impressive?” Will repeated, incredulous. 

He’d been very highly impressed, first by the appetizer of seared scallops over the prettiest, most fancy salad he had ever seen or tasted, and now by the luscious arrangement of big, juicy shrimp and meaty sausage mixed among bright peppers and softened onion, garlicky spicy-sweet perfection wafting from the plate. In every small aspect of presentation, Hannibal’s cookery was art. Furthermore, he could tell that the doctor was hanging on his every word to discern if Will really enjoyed it, which was so cute it was all Will could do not to offer himself as dessert.

“This is wonderful,” he enthused, and Hannibal looked so delighted at the compliment, the way someone would look if they just won the lottery, or whatever the equivalent of that was if you were already rich and had everything you could want in life. _Well, almost everything._

“The sausage is so flavorful, it’s really unique. What do you use for it? I assume you make it from scratch.”

“I do indeed,” Hannibal beamed. “It’s pork. Selected from my favorite butcher, with the assurance it came from an especially insolent pig.”

Will laughed. “You’re so mindful of etiquette, even down to your choice of slaughtered animals who end up on your dinner table?”

“Without etiquette, we would be no better than pigs ourselves. Now, Will...please tell me you like creme brulee.”

The dessert was exceptional, with flavors of bitter coffee and sweet vanilla-caramel that melted on Will’s tongue. To his surprise, Hannibal presented the small bowl of rich custard along with a short glass of bourbon which exactly complimented the flavor. With dinner, Will had been served sparkling water, accented with fresh berries of course, because Hannibal did absolutely nothing plainly.

“I thought I was on no-liquor punishment at first,” Will chuckled, licking a small fleck of custard from his lower lip as Hannibal watched him, looking entranced.

“Certainly not. I do think we need to keep an eye on your portions, as I would never again like to see you overly inebriated to the point of nearly being made ill by it.” Hannibal went on spooning up his own dessert politely, until Will’s next comment made the spoon freeze in its journey up to his mouth.

“I like you making decisions for me sometimes. The way you ordered for me at the bar that night...and afterwards I had this funny little fantasy of you taking me out to lunch, telling the waiter everything I would be having. You ordered me a cherry cola and gave me this pointed look that said to be a good boy.” Will knew he was being quite daring, knew he was the one blushing this time, but it was all true. Also, he couldn’t seem to resist pushing Hannibal’s buttons.

“Cherry cola?” Hannibal smiled, turning his little bowl of dessert around, an unmistakably overwhelmed nervous fidget. At present he didn’t seem to be feeling shy, so Will marked his attitude down to “seriously turned on” with great satisfaction and excitement. 

“In the traditional sense, I’m not, uh...you know.” Will started fidgeting too, crumpling and uncrumpling the cloth napkin in his lap. “A virgin.”

“But in some ways you are one,” Hannibal finished his thought, making this conversation exactly what Will needed it to be: much easier than he had hoped. They couldn’t go much further in their burgeoning relationship without acknowledging the fact that Will had never had sex with a man before and didn’t know how much of it even worked. 

They simply sat there for a few lingering moments, staring into each other’s eyes until Will licked his lips and Hannibal set his spoon down.

“Something in you is soothed and aroused in equal measures by my confidence and control,” Hannibal posited, his voice low but calm, his eyes dark and consuming.

“Yes,” Will nearly whispered. “I...like the idea of you teaching me, showing me things.” His face felt like it had to be fire engine red by now and his heart hammered painfully, but he needed to know this. “Do you understand?”

“I do, Will. I understand exactly. I think you have quite a lot to learn, and it would make me exquisitely happy to have the privilege of teaching you gradually, with care and attention to your pleasure, making sure it is the utmost you can experience, and then finding ways to take you even further.”

“Hannibal, can we please…” _Go to your bed,_ Will wanted to ask, _Or just take me right here on the table_. 

“But you mustn’t be impatient, my dear.” Hannibal stood and began clearing their plates, casting him an authoritative glance. “I have evolved a plan for our courtship, a distinctive design tailored to give you everything you need at the right time, when you are fully ready to embrace it.”

Will frowned. “Do you want me to go home now?”

Hannibal set the dishes aside and sank to his knees, taking Will’s hands and bestowing a passionately insistent gaze. The emotional intensity of it shook his voice as he said, “Don’t do that with me, Will. Don’t go into hiding. If I ever want you to leave, which is exceedingly unlikely, I will say so.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said, trying to control his feelings as they spilled out everywhere inside him, desire, guilt, fear, need to be loved and taken care of, and the same cringing self-loathing that usually made him conceal it all from everyone. His eyes filled with tears and he hung his head. “I can be very insecure. I know it’s not very mature of me--”

“Will,” Hannibal sighed, and he brought them both to their feet before hugging him, smoothing his hands over Will’s back to ease the shivers of anxiety which had returned. “Will.”

Will was falling, there was no doubt about it. If Hannibal had wanted him to leave and sleep alone tonight it would have killed him. It was all he could do not to cling to the man’s strong, reassuring frame far too tightly, dig his nails into Hannibal’s back, beg to stay forever. Why were they both like this, as if the powerful infatuation between them was the only oxygen left in this world to sustain them? Maybe he was crazy and Hannibal was, too, but right now he felt like it could save him.

“I’d like to give you a bath,” Hannibal murmured, kissing his forehead. 

Still half-lost in a blur of mind-blowing thoughts and feelings, Will blinked in confusion. “What? Why?”

Hannibal laughed softly and framed Will’s face in his hands. “Because you are so lovely, my dear, and I want to give you a treat. I want you to feel pampered, and selfishly...I would relish the chance to get my hands into this pretty hair of yours when it’s wet and I can take my time in washing it.”

“I...guess, okay,” Will agreed, still much too overwhelmed, and Hannibal was looking at him in a way he couldn’t run from, keeping him anchored in the moment until he had to accept that it _was_ overwhelming and it was going to stay that way, and instead of fighting the feeling, he should just give in.

***

Will disrobed and climbed into the bath which Hannibal had prepared in his large, claw-footed basin, and he tried to remember when was the last time someone else had bathed him. Certainly his mother, when he was a baby and a toddler, before she saw fit to wander out of his life, never to be seen again. But he couldn’t remember that. When Will was a young kid, his dad just filled the tub for him and walked away, probably to get another beer out of the fridge, sit in his armchair and stare vacantly out the window for a while. Then Will got to be old enough to run his own bath, and even this small attention to his hygiene was no longer something his father involved himself in. Will did it for himself, just like he found his own meals and figured out his homework, eventually learning where to get driving lessons and how to get into college.

He thought of the cramped little bathtubs of his childhood, dollar store soap and rough washcloths, and felt sheer amazement at how different this was, the carefully prepared, deep bath of water that was the exactly right temperature to be soothing -- very warm, just shy of hot enough to feel it was burning him. The heat made his nervously tensed bones and muscles begin to relax again, and the mood from the bookstore came back in, the idea of going with the flow of this thing between himself and Hannibal. The idea that it could be good and he could handle it, to stop being afraid.

“Are you decent?” Hannibal inquired playfully, returning to the room once Will had concealed his nudity under the thick bubbles. 

Will flicked a bit of water at him and smirked. “Yes, oh saintly one. You’re really not going to sneak a peek or anything?”

"Naughty boy," Hannibal tsked, "How you do provoke me."

"I'd definitely peek, if the tables were turned," Will admitted, making Hannibal blush.

Hannibal placed a folded, soft towel on the floor and knelt atop it, positioning himself behind Will’s head as he next took up the bottle of shampoo. “I don't have the excuse of washing your body to allow me the indulgent glance or two. You’ve already cleaned up, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Will nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back as Hannibal began lavishing shampoo into his curls, “I did that when I was in the shower earlier. I can’t remember the last time I took a bath, to be honest.”

“I thought that might be the case.” Hannibal spoke gently, long fingers gliding deeply through Will’s thick, wet hair, massaging his scalp. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” he sighed, laughing a little. His body had fully relaxed, embraced in warmth, the scent of rosemary, clove and thyme, and Hannibal’s excessive, wonderful attention. “I think because it’s from you, with you…”

He didn’t know how to fully explain what it meant to him, the history and realizations of what he still needed that he’d never had before, even as a child, to be fully prioritized and treasured, even, as Hannibal had said, pampered. 

Luckily, Hannibal seemed to understand him once again, without further need for explanation. “I’m happy to hear it,” he hummed, guiding Will to tip his head at the best angle for him to rinse the soap from his hair.

Will dried off alone and changed into another t-shirt and pair of Hannibal’s soft lounge pants. If they were going to get serious, maybe he should keep some of his own clothes here at some point, but then, he really thought he might miss wearing Hannibal’s stuff. It felt like a continual hug he didn’t want to lose.

Hannibal took a shower next, so Will waited in the doctor’s bedroom, flicking on the flatscreen attached to the wall across from the king-sized bed. It was lovely and tranquil in here, with midnight blue walls and tastefully displayed paintings, including an incredibly well-made copy of _Girl with a Pearl Earring_ hanging nearby. He stared into her endlessly curious eyes, identifying completely with the unknown Dutch girl's feelings. 

To further pass the time, he watched the news, with the usual depressing headlines from around the world instilling little interest aside from numbing bewilderment, but then there were the local updates. When Hannibal came back into the room, dressed in a silky dark blue pajama set and still towel-drying his hair, Will was staring, fixated at the screen.

“Something of special interest?” Hannibal asked lightly, lingering behind him.

Will blushed and turned the tv off, not knowing quite how to explain the flood of fascination and forbidden excitement which he’d just been experiencing. He’d found various ways to hide the obsession in the past, from his friends and the occasional girlfriend, merely calling it an interest in “true crime” and a possible calling to go into criminal justice someday.

“It’s just, um, the latest news about the murder of that nurse,” Will fumbled to clarify, immediately feeling like an idiot as something else occurred to him. “God, she worked at the same hospital as you, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t bring it up like that, Jesus...how insensitive.”

“Not a problem in the least, Will.” Hannibal stood before him, sturdy and calm. “I do grieve for the victim, although I did not know her personally. Did the news anchor indicate whether her murderer may soon be caught?”

“No, it sounds like there aren’t clues leading to any suspects in particular.” Will’s enthusiasm took over automatically as he went on, “They do think it might be a serial killer, as they’ve connected some of the murderer’s signature habits with those involved with a few past killings. In fact, this is the third death in a row where the organs were removed and the body was displayed in a sort of artistic tableau. I’m surprised it took the authorities this long to call it a serial spree; I _knew_ that’s what it was when the second body turned up -- remember, that restaurant manager a month back?”

“If you do decide to go into crime solving as a career, Will, the authorities would be lucky to have such an incisive mind on their side. Perhaps the killers of the world would even be rather honored to be caught by one so clever.” Hannibal’s smile was so kind and understanding, passing no judgement on Will’s tangent, which to his own ears verged on exuberant. This emboldened Will to keep talking, as he had never had someone to share this hyperfixation with.

“Did you see what the killer did to the nurse’s body? There were pictures on the news the morning after.”

“She was posed rather like the Mona Lisa,” Hannibal recalled. “But a mocking rendition.”

“Yes, it’s hard to be entirely as elegantly mysterious as the Mona Lisa when you’re sporting gaping holes in your chest and stomach where your vital organs used to be, but otherwise, it was a near-perfect likeness. An exceptional mockery, I’d say, taking her down a few million pegs. I wonder what she ever did to him, or maybe it was just an indictment of her whole personality.”

“You’re saying ‘maybe,’” Hannibal noted, “But you sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“I am sure.” Will’s eyes were big and bright in the low lamplight of the bedroom, the two of them facing each other, Hannibal’s own expression inscrutable. “Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I can put myself in the point of view of someone like that.”

“A killer.”

“Yes, I can see what they saw, I can understand their...design. Sometimes even though I know it’s wrong and I shouldn’t, I think it’s stunning in its own way, especially what this killer does, elevating murder to art. I...admire it.” Will caught his breath, shocked at himself for revealing so much. 

Hannibal’s unreadable expression was no longer in place to shield his emotions. He looked at Will utterly aghast, and Will wanted to crawl under the bed. Why couldn’t he keep his stupid mouth shut? He sounded like a raving psychopath, for God’s sake--

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal sighed, rushing closer and kissing him with desperate vigor. He’d lost his composure and his restraint somehow, licking hard into Will’s mouth with his hands under the younger man’s shirt, roaming all over, then tweaking a nipple. 

_Oh, holy fuck_ , Will had never been so turned on. He moaned as Hannibal kissed his neck with near-ferocious hunger, finally sinking his teeth in until it hurt and Will’s cock filled out in response. Hannibal sucked the bite mark equally as hard, without mercy. Then he whipped Will’s shirt off and threw it to the floor, muttering darkly, “Lie down for me.”

Will did as he was told, trembling and nervous and delighted, and Hannibal loomed over him with a face looking cut from marble, a viciously intent angel. He leaned in to tease Will’s nipples, licking them each until they were stiff, then left a biting, aching trail of kisses down Will’s stomach. 

“Can I finish undressing you?” Hannibal asked, his voice too harsh for the words to seem at all tender. It seemed like he would die or lash out at Will if he couldn’t have what he wanted just then.

“Yes, don’t stop,” Will answered, his voice a breathy, lost thing, and Hannibal practically tore his pants off, giving a low, almost threatening growl when he saw Will entirely bared to him.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal told him in a throaty tone, greedily kissing his hips and thighs, his attentions sloppy and wet. 

He took Will’s bulging cock in hand and Will felt a rush of shocking pleasure at being touched so intimately. He whimpered, “God, Hannibal, please --”

And found his pleas quickly answered as Hannibal took his heavy, weeping erection directly into the wet heat of his mouth, all in one perfect, savoring, slick stroke. Will felt his sensitive, rigid flesh surrounded by Hannibal’s tight, insistently knowing lips and threw his head back with a louder moan. 

Unlike his usually verbose way of doing things, Hannibal said nothing else, but began pumping Will’s cock expertly with his big, warm hand, using the lubrication of saliva and precum to make it spine-tinglingly, earth-shakingly good. He took Will’s balls into his mouth with careful, gentle squeezes and licks, just enough to give pleasure without hurting, and all the while he was still stroking Will from base to tip, beginning to speed up the rhythm of his movements. Will’s toes curled and his eyes rolled back.

“Ahh-ohhh! That's-- oh my _God_ , Hannibal…”

Will’s softly unravelling voice served to make Hannibal even wilder for him. He sucked Will’s cock again, taking him deep, deeper than Will knew it was possible or even safe to go, and he was almost a bit worried because he didn’t want Hannibal to choke, but _fuck_ , how was he doing that -- God, it felt so good, his dick reaching the back of Hannibal’s throat, and the other man let out a loud gagging sound that was somehow longing and happy, thick spit filling his mouth and making it even easier to keep taking Will past the point of his own natural discomfort. He wouldn’t let up, breathing sharply and confidently through his nose as he sucked and licked and deep-throated in a rhythmic pattern, taking Will to the breaking point with that same relentless appetite.

Then Will suddenly saw stars and comets, his body seizing half-off the bed, back arching helplessly, pleasure surging through him with such unbelievable strength, and he was crying out, nearly weeping; his cum had gone right down Hannibal’s abused throat, Jesus _Christ_ what a feeling of power and ecstasy, draining him of every sensation other than pure euphoria. 

“I can’t…” he laughed and wiped tears from his eyes while his whole body shook, and even the residual waves of pleasure were more than he could believe. “Hannibal, please…” Words, what words could he find to express this feeling, or to get what he needed right now?

Thank God, “Hannibal, please” was once again enough. The doctor climbed onto the bed and slumped heavily against Will, wrapping an arm around his waist and snuggling his face into Will’s chest. Even through the daze of his afterglow, Will could sense how completely exhausted Hannibal was, that he had just given of himself with such wild abandon, and he was concealing his face now, almost like he was ashamed.

“Are you okay?” Will asked softly, running his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, still a little damp from his shower. 

“I almost feel I owe you an apology,” Hannibal admitted, still keeping his eyes closed, head bent and pressed to Will’s heart. His voice had been rendered a bit raspy by what he had just done. “I never intended to progress that far with you physically, this soon in our relationship. You are so very beautiful in every single way that I...lost myself in you.”

“Thank you," Will smiled, "So are you, Hannibal. I know you’re not usually much one for losing control.” 

Will wondered if Hannibal thought he had forgotten the actual cause of Hannibal’s surrender to lusty savagry. But he recalled with perfect clarity that it had all started when Will confessed his fascinated admiration for the serial killer currently terrorizing the city. What the hell was that all about? Could it be that Hannibal was all the more enamored with Will for allowing himself to be seen, problematic eccentricities and instability and all? Or was this about something far scarier...was Hannibal, who possessed the surgical skills to commit these crimes, the culprit? It seemed absurd, what were the chances of that? And aside from his overall, and profound, quirkiness, Hannibal had never betrayed the slightest hint of a violent nature to Will. But then again, he barely knew him...barely knew him, and felt his presence more meaningfully than anything he had experienced. Should he dismiss such suspicions out of hand or follow them down a rabbit hole?

_Curiouser and curiouser..._

“Do you forgive me, Will?” Hannibal looked up at him, and whatever the cause, there was a startling vulnerability in his sweetly frightening brown eyes. 

Shaking himself free of his disturbing thought spiral, Will refocused on the here and now, on Hannibal, who, he reminded himself, had been nothing but kind and understanding and wonderful. He was also really too gorgeous, more than anyone could handle, but Will intended to do his best.

“Forgive you? For hearing all about my weaknesses, flaws and potential insanity, and still wanting me, giving me so much affection and happiness and frankly the most intense orgasm of my life -- Hannibal. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Storms still seethed somewhere deep inside Hannibal’s heart, problems and trepidations which Will could not understand, as lucidly as he felt he did see his new lover, for the most part. One thing was certain: there was danger here between them, as sure as there was passion and admiration and the meeting of two souls potentially destined to meld into one. Will smiled anyway, as Hannibal nodded, apparently comforted by his words. He reached over to turn off the lamp, deciding that whatever further strangeness lay ahead for them, he would let it come, let it take them over.


	5. Chapter 5

Will watched Hannibal making breakfast with a peculiar sort of intrigue rustling around his brain like fireflies in the dark. 

With his usual cheerful, smooth demeanor, the doctor prepared a scrumptious omelet made with (chicken?) liver and tomatoes, plus an expertly bestowed burst of dill and garlic to accentuate the somewhat gamey flavor, and parmesan lending a nutty, fruity finish. You probably couldn’t get anything as remarkable as this even in the nicest French Quarter eateries, none of which Will had been privileged to try. And despite the nearly imposing nature of the complicated, ornate fare and presentation, Hannibal acted breezily as if this was nothing and he could have made the meal in his sleep for all the effort it cost him. 

Only the slightest self-conscious flush in his cheeks and the tentative smile playing about his plush lips betrayed his continuous hope that Will would enjoy the food he prepared. Well, that, and the large purple alstroemeria flower on Will’s plate.

He lifted the fragrant blossom to his nose and smiled across the table at Hannibal. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I hope so,” Hannibal replied with a coy wink. He began eating with a casual, pleased attitude that belied the maybe insane theories still pestering Will’s otherwise affectionate mood.

Over and over, Will had replayed yesterday’s events in his head. Hannibal’s immediate desire to possess him and drown him with attention and treats, an inclination which was as eloquently balanced as his recipes were, by his occasional gifting of power to Will -- letting Will buy him that book, for example, because he wouldn’t wound Will’s pride by making the obvious point that the student couldn’t really afford it. Hannibal asking him, in the bookstore, as if making normal conversation, _”Do you dream in shades of dread and shocking hunger, Will?_ ”

And in fact, Will did. He just hadn’t been aware there might be someone for him to dream those vivid, grotesque nightmares _with_ , and now he didn’t know what to do, either with his emotions or his suspicions. Hannibal was revealing himself in slow and careful ways. The doctor had even admitted this was his plan; he did want Will to see him. But every now and then there would come a fit of uncontrolled feeling, such as his reaction to Will’s admiration of the Bayou’s own resident ripper.

Part of Will asked himself, _”did you really think you could actually just meet someone nice and normal who would want_ you?!”

A deeper, more resonant murmur started in his heart to ring through his ears, _”are you trying to tell yourself you’re not still falling desperately in love with this man, or that any number of horrifying secrets are going to hold you back from him now?”_

After all, Will had known almost from the beginning that something was “off” about Hannibal, and he had to wonder if this hadn’t only served to increase his attraction. When he thought about yesterday, the intellectual connection, the dizzying romance, the physical pleasure both soothing and sexual, Will realized he had never felt happier or more at home. 

He still wanted this, didn’t want it to end. But he didn’t want to lie to himself either...nor lie to Hannibal about his suspicions, yet what was he going to do, just come out and ask him if he had a secret hobby of murdering people?

“Something on your mind, Will?” Hannibal inquired as Will made a belated and distracted start on his own meal, which was every bit as delicious as he had expected.

“Only you,” Will answered warmly. “What’s on your schedule for today?”

“Only you.” Hannibal’s eyes glittered, and there was an adorable fringe of light brown hair falling over his brow, an irresistible energy of sensual, heartfelt fondness in his gaze. “I have a long shift over the weekend, but it doesn’t begin until this evening. Do you have Saturday classes?”

“No, I have the day off. I usually head to the dog shelter for a few hours to help out.” 

Will considered his next words carefully. Was he making this plan to keep an eye on Hannibal or just to keep him close because he _needed_ him near? _Yes._

“Do you wanna come with me? I know it’s not really your thing...it won’t be clean or smell very good, but I always have a great time.” Will shrugged. “I just love dogs so much.” 

That was putting it lightly. Before Hannibal, Saturdays volunteering at the dog shelter had been the only thing he had to look forward to.

“I’d love to come,” Hannibal beamed, as if Will had just given him something exquisite and fragile, and perhaps he had. This wasn’t something he’d shared with anyone, not even Sophie. He had also never bonded with another person about his hyperfixation on serial killers, and he didn’t know what this was if not love, to give someone the darkest and lightest sides of yourself and find they kept coming back for more, even when it baffled you.

***

“Ricki!” Will exclaimed joyously as a floppy-eared little mutt came running up to him like a long-lost friend. Will stroked the short, stocky brown dog’s head and grinned down at the animal, his whole expression exuding pure sunshine.

In his position nearly pressed against the wall to avoid the general atmosphere of fur and barking, Hannibal’s resistance to this environment melted just that easily. Look at this beautiful, loving boy with his pockets full of treats for orphaned and otherwise uncared-for mongrels. Despite the neglect which had marked so much of his own existence, Will chose to reach out and give his time to the most pathetic and frankly odorous, shabby creatures he could have found.

Why was that so entirely endearing? He’d come here like a trained animal himself, tugged along merrily on Will’s leash, and the act of devotion was getting to be such an enjoyable habit that he could endure even _this_ setting without flinching. 

His body language relaxed, and he saw Will noticing, saw his appreciation that Hannibal could turn off his natural snobbery in such moments for his new lover’s sake. And Hannibal thought in that moment, he could sacrifice almost anything to make Will smile like that. The fearful part was, perhaps he would.

Obviously, Will had intuited far more than Hannibal intended by his conduct the previous evening, but how could Hannibal have helped it? The last thing he’d expected was to hear from the very same lips he longed to kiss forever, that his most carefully guarded secret persona, the one who targeted discourteous persons for gruesome recompense, was an object of sincere and even disturbing admiration. More than that, Will could place himself in the killer’s point of view; he could see through Hannibal’s eyes and want to keep looking. Precious, incomparable sweetheart...surely he had been designed by a God and angels he used to scoff at, designed to perfectly compliment Hannibal’s deepest, most hidden self and allow him the previously inconceivable experience of fully reciprocated love.

Hannibal used to think no one would want him if they saw the truth of him; in the eyes of the world his actions were more than taboo, they were absolutely disgusting, inescapably repellent. Yet he knew Will suspected, had felt it in the subtle change in his eyes, caught between wariness and the temptation to fall deeper, and the inflections of his sweet voice, ever so slightly guarded now. Will suspected, but he did not run from Hannibal, he waited for his lover to unfurl his design as promised.

In time, Hannibal knew he could bring Will fully into his world, but he must create the perfect invitation. At present he was content to wait for inspiration to dawn, to help him form a worthy tribute to his love.

***

“This one is your favorite,” Hannibal smiled a short while later, as they took Ricki for a walk through the woods nearby.

“That obvious, huh?” Will said as they strolled along, him in his grey slacks and leather sandals with a plain white t-shirt he’d borrowed from Hannibal, pleasantly baggy, and Hannibal in a short-sleeved heather blue linen shirt and a pair of slim-fitting light tan pants, making little concession for the casual setting, only suitable tweaks of his attire to confront the balmy weather. His pricey loafers were probably going to get annihilated by the hike over uneven and dirt-covered ground, and Will couldn’t help finding this even more adorable than it was stubbornly quirky. 

Hannibal didn’t dress all the way down for anything, and that made the thought of messing him up, being the only one who could make him lose his composure, even more appealing.

Ricki was nearly prancing with happiness to be together again. She really remembered Will from all the previous visits, and it made his heart warm. 

“They let me borrow her for a little while sometimes,” he explained, “but I can’t bring her home to keep. Much as I want to, there’s no pets allowed in the dorm. I mean, Grady wouldn’t mind at all, but I know I’d get caught.”

“Keep her at my apartment, then,” Hannibal suggested lightly, making Will do a double-take. 

Will stopped short, automatically twisting in time with Ricki, who ran a circle around him, and said, “What?”

“I understand if like some of my other gestures it’s a little soon to embark on such a commitment as a shared pet, and one who resides with me, no less.” 

Hannibal looked to be pondering possible elaborations on his latest excessive offer, and came up with this: “We can wait a while, if you wish, and you may choose a time in the future when it seems more appropriate for us to adopt a pet. Or, if you prefer, you may bring her home and stay there yourself as often as you like. You may leave half of your belongings and split your time between the dorm and my apartment, or you may move in altogether.”

Will’s mind ran through an obstacle course of possibilities. Things were once again going way too fast and yet he was completely, irrevocably blown away by this man. How could it be a manipulation, when Hannibal added all those lesser half-measures and “wait and see” options to his suggestions, so that the most beautifully tempting possibilities shone like gold, gold as Hannibal’s eyes, sublime as his hazy, besotted smile in the sunny afternoon.

Was this the kind and loving gesture of a well-meaning but overly obsessed new boyfriend, or the should-be-terrifying machination of a calculating serial killer?

The doctor chuckled as Ricki jumped up on his legs, and he warned her with his eyes sparkling and an easy smile, “Do not be too excited, Ricki. We haven’t heard what Will thinks of our ideas yet.” He crouched down and petted Ricki gamely, as if he was more than willing to tolerate her for Will's sake, and quite warming to the concept of a pet in general.

And something about this was so innocent, so absent of ulterior motive, so charming and pure.

Will’s shoulders relaxed; his _soul_ relaxed. God, what had he been _thinking_ of, how could he have ever suspected that this gentle, loving man was capable of murder? He was part-relieved, part-disappointed and wholly grateful that his love life and his confusing, insistent fascination with the killer could be kept separate. There clearly wasn’t a thing on Hannibal’s mind other than living well, helping others (he _saved_ lives for a job, after all) and making Will happy.

And he _did_ make Will so happy. 

“Okay, let’s do it, let’s adopt her.” He grinned as Hannibal looked even more pleased. Excitement thrummed between them, making Will’s heart feel buoyant and free. “We can figure out the rest later, but I’d really love to live with you.”

Hannibal looked overwhelmed, but he rose to his feet and leaned in to kiss Will. Ricki, of course, chose this moment to get bored. She tugged the leash hard and tried to dart forward, but Hannibal didn’t give up. As he and Will both laughed, he chased Will as the dog half-dragged him forward, with Hannibal pressing delighted, lop-sided, soft kisses to his lips as they stumbled along.

***

They filled out the adoption forms for Ricki, and Will was giddy at the sight of their names, _Hannibal Lecter_ and _Will Graham_ , side by side as pet parents, so official. He’d never had a dog of his very own, much less a loving partner to share the experience with. 

“Will can pick Ricki up and bring her home tomorrow; you can do that, my dear, right? I’ll be at the hospital all day.” Hannibal looked from the cheerfully expectant face of the shelter worker to Will, who nodded.

“Sure, no problem.”

Hannibal patted his cheek. “Perfect.”

***

“And I believe we have just enough time,” said Hannibal as they walked back to the car. He checked his outrageously expensive, shiny gold watch and gave a curt, self-satisfied nod. “Yes.” He took out his keys and click-clicked to remotely unlock the Bentley.

The confidence and posh manners exuding from his every small gesture were a potent turn-on for Will, who felt torn again, in a much more pleasant way this time. He was caught between domestic joy and naughty lust, and the intersection of the two created a new sensation he never wanted to let go of.

“Enough time for what?” Will asked, and Hannibal caged him against the car door, smiling.

“To go to the pet store so that you can choose whatever items for Ricki’s care you’d like. Please, spare no expense, as only the best will do, and I trust your taste in the matter; in fact, I defer to your expertise. And afterwards, I think we may just get in an early dinner before I must drop you back at your dormitory.”

Will was so overwhelmed with previously unheard of happiness he didn’t know what to do with himself at first. So he nodded, then brushed a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek that made the older man smile more broadly, as if this Victorian-level gesture of affection had made his whole day.

So Hannibal made no mention of Will’s low-key reaction and they simply got in the car and started driving towards the pet supply store. The shelter was in a rural area outside the city, so they had to take some long, winding, fairly isolated roads on their return.

Will watched Hannibal’s serene profile for several minutes as they sat in silence aside from the classical music playing on satellite radio. Then he leaned over the armrest towards the driver's side and kissed Hannibal’s cheek again. Hannibal said nothing, just smiled slightly and kept driving, and Will did it again...and again, closer to his lips…

Again on the side of Hannibal’s mouth so that when they stopped at a red light, Hannibal turned into the next kiss and met it full-on, indulgently opening to Will with soft, wet strokes of his tongue and a small nibble to his lower lip. Fire darted up Will’s spine and he gazed at Hannibal through dark, long lashes. A pick-up truck waited at the red light behind them, and when it turned green without Hannibal moving, the driver beeped loudly. Hannibal’s foot pressed the accelerator as he drove normally with every appearance of paying full attention to the road.

But Will couldn’t seem to stop the wild urge to touch and kiss that had taken him over. He kissed Hannibal’s cheek, his neck, his big hand wrapped around the wheel, and he squeezed Hannibal’s knee. When Will’s fingers began traveling slowly upward, skating over his thigh, Hannibal swerved the car suddenly to the side of the road.

The truck that had been behind them beeped again and the driver leaned out to yell a few scolding words as they sped off, but Will and Hannibal paid no attention. The moment the car was parked under the shade of a big, leafy tree, Hannibal took hold of Will’s face and kissed him hard, and Will groped his lover’s thigh, then found the hard line of his cock and stroked the large, beautiful shape of it through the older man’s trousers.

“Will,” Hannibal groaned, his head tipping back against the armrest, the word half admonition, half plea, and Will smiled.

What a complicated man, just as fascinating as some wildly insane serial killer could ever be, but safe and devoted. Will wondered why he seemed so fearful of greater intimacy; was it that he meant to protect Will’s youthful innocence, respecting the difference in experience between them? Did he think Will would run away if he became too sexually aggressive?

There was more going on, beyond the protectiveness. With every erotic shiver that passed between them, Will was granted access to new secrets of intimate human emotion, and this was not something he thought Hannibal was used to sharing. It seemed to make him frightened of his own vulnerability, as if Will was opening wounds which Hannibal had kept carefully stitched up for God knows how long, unflappably cool and alone.

He leaned down and kissed the hard bulge of Hannibal’s cock, then caressed it over the smooth fabric of his pants.

“Will, please,” Hannibal sighed, eyes squeezed shut and hands tight in Will’s curls, and it was like he was asking for mercy.

Will unbuttoned his pants, then eased the zipper down, waiting for Hannibal to stop him. Instead, when he reached inside the older man’s underwear and wrapped his unskilled but eager fingers around the urgent hard-on within, Hannibal tensed up and gasped, “oh, my darling…”

Will stroked, staring down in amazement at the easy back and forth of it. Despite the confines of their position and Hannibal’s clothes still half intact, he was able to get better at this very quickly. Calling to mind what made him feel good when he jerked off, he gathered pre-cum from the tip of Hannibal’s dick and used it to ease the glide. Squeezing slightly, letting himself learn about the silky foreskin and how it moved, how it could be used to add to Hannibal’s pleasure, he met the doctor’s eyes and licked his own lips, batting his lashes invitingly.

“Sweet boy,” Hannibal moaned, a hand on the back of Will’s head to guide him as the younger man dipped his head further, “What have you made of me?”

Will nosed along the side of Hannibal’s long, thick erection, taking in the scent of salty, masculine musk with a hypnotized thrall. How new, how familiar, how shockingly enticing. He licked tentatively, up the length to the tip, circling the head still beading with fresh pre-cum under his attentions.

He wanted this so badly he could not control the rampant pounding of his heart, and as he sank his mouth down over Hannibal’s achingly sensitive cock and tasted him fully for the first time, he moaned. The moan vibrated over and through Hannibal as Will began instinctively to bob his head, one hand still wrapped around Hannibal, his tight lips moving up and down, his hand stroking in the wet, dripping wake of his oral attentions. 

“Take your hand away,” Hannibal nearly snapped, and Will felt a jolt of exhilaration at his change in tone to dominating and instructive. Despite the bossy tone, Hannibal’s voice was ragged and he knew what he was doing was almost unbelievably thrilling for the doctor, too.

Right here, in this fancy car by the side of some random road, Will sucking him off with amateur skills but completely fixated enjoyment, Hannibal now using his hold on Will’s hair to dictate his movements. The pure erotic mischief and potential scandal of it all was intoxicating.

“Keep your mouth tight and take me deeper,” Hannibal commanded, showing Will how to establish a slowly building tempo, his hand heavy and insistent on Will’s head, pushing his cock in and back also with the gradual rise of his hips, the rock-hard, slick, hot length of him now pressing deeper, right to the back of Will’s tongue.

Will felt his gag reflex kicking in already, but he refused to give up when he was this shockingly, deliriously aroused, and Hannibal sensed his body’s natural resistance.

“Relax your throat if you can,” Hannibal advised, his words coming harsh and breathless now, and Will’s face was burning up, tears of exertion streaking from his eyes. His jaw was already sore because it was his first time doing this and Hannibal was fucking huge and mercilessly stiff; it defied belief to consider this thing inside him in another way, too, even more intimate, and Will moaned again at the thought.

“Oh, God, Will.” Hannibal was panting, speaking in a blurring rush of stuttering breath. It was pleasantly cool in the car but their bodies were hot, and Will was elated at the taste, hard, unrelenting, manly and thick, filling him and pushing deeper, the smell of Hannibal’s refined cologne mingling with that of his shameless arousal still dripping from his tip into Will’s mouth. “ _Will_...I-- please, breathe through your nose -- be calm, you will not choke.”

And Hannibal gave Will a hard, loving push down, down, down on his cock until Will’s throat seemed to be closing around it. Will’s body tried to panic, but his mind kept him centered out of pure determination; he was crying with the fear of losing oxygen and the ecstasy of the rough, controlling way Hannibal handled him. He breathed through his nose, sharply, his hands tightly squeezing the fabric of Hannibal’s trousers, and it hurt and burned, but then he got a reprieve; Hannibal was moving Will’s head normally again for a few beats, only to resume the deep throating when he felt Will was ready again. He wasn’t ready, but this time he focused even more stubbornly on being strong enough to take it, and all of a sudden Hannibal was drawing back again with a staggered gasp as a thick spurt of bitter, but somehow delicious cum spread over Will’s tongue.

He swallowed it, and the swallow hurt; his throat ached and somehow felt empty at the same time. He was exhausted and he wanted more; resting his face on Hannibal’s knee, he lay astonished and red-faced, tears still pouring from his startled blue eyes, his lips puffy and reddened as well.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Hannibal purred, arranging Will in a nearly normal seated position in his designated place on the passenger side. He flicked open the button on Will’s trousers and unzipped them as Will, breathing hard, needing every kind of affection all at once to take the edge off his overabundance of excited discomfort and craving for so much more, sighed out his name.

Hannibal looked fairly spent himself, doubtless still woozy with the afterglow of pleasure, but he stroked Will off to a bone-tingling orgasm with masterful ease, then lowered his head and licked up Will’s release, increasing the shimmers of ecstasy still roving over the younger man’s body with the addicted, wet suck of his adoring mouth.

“My good boy,” Hannibal praised as Will sat dazed, his head thrown back and breathing still jagged and strange, his limbs heavy and tingling with lingering pleasure. 

After carefully tucking Will back into his pants, Hannibal kissed his sweaty brow and stroked his hair, murmuring more sweet words of affirmation that eased the student’s often restlessly insecure mind, making self-consciousness a distant memory. Hannibal’s gravely voice with that luscious accent served as a drug of its own kind, as potent as any other mesmerizing quality about him.

“Precious, lovely, beautiful boy. You did so incredibly well, and I’m so proud of you. I think you deserve an extra treat tonight for being so willing to learn, making me feel so very good.”

“Did I really?” Will rasped, gazing at him with slowly fluttering lashes, and he knew he had, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of Hannibal’s praise. He wanted it all day, all night, along with Hannibal’s body and his hands, his mouth all over him.

“Oh, yes, dearest. You are thoroughly sublime. I think perhaps you might need a nap during the remainder of our drive,” he added with a playful, smitten smile.

“Sounds good,” Will admitted, and he passed out before he realized it, wondering confusedly if Hannibal would always know just how to teach him, and exactly what he needed at any given moment, or if this was just the magical first flush of their love, which would fade with time. 

His dream was a tangled mess of sexual ferocity, black blood shining in the moonlight and Hannibal caked with it, fangs bared to Will’s naked body as Will lay prone, vulnerable and helpless in the middle of the campus quad, wanting to scream but incapable of doing anything but whimpering, once again, _”More_ ”

***

“Once again I feel loath to let you go,” Hannibal sighed as he parked in the lot closest to Will’s dorm.

“Once again I’m in no mood whatsoever to leave you,” Will grinned. 

Hannibal opened Will’s fingers and placed a key in his palm, then closed them again over the small, highly significant gift.

“This is so that you can come and go from my apartment as you please. I’ll have all of Ricki’s belongings arranged for her, so it will be ready for when you bring her home. I will _also_ clear out several drawers in my bedroom dresser, in case you would like to use them.”

Will blushed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re...you’re just a _lot_?”

“I’m not like this with anyone else,” Hannibal shrugged lightly, then cupped Will’s face and caressed it, uncaring of the students and faculty wandering the parking lot and school grounds nearby. “So it’s never actually been a subject of conversation before.”

“Thank you for everything today,” Will answered, thinking it seemed so reductive, but it was what he could give, his words, to try and encapsulate so much feeling. “For just being with me, for Ricki and offering for me to move in, for dinner and, um…”

He blushed brighter but knew exactly how much Hannibal would like it if he added, with mischief sparkling in his blue eyes, “ _The lesson._ I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Naughty boy." Hannibal gave him a wickedly intent look. "I’ll be thinking of you constantly until the moment we’re together once more.” Then Hannibal got out of the car like the gentleman he was and opened Will’s door. With both of them knowing they were driving each other wonderfully crazy, he walked Will to his room and offered a teasingly chaste goodnight kiss.

***

Will stayed up pretty late that night because he had a test on Monday morning, and he didn’t want the flashfire of his affair with Hannibal to completely distract him from his studies. He slept late into the next morning, which was okay because he had arranged to pick Ricki up in the afternoon.

“Jesus, man, that’s fucked,” Grady murmured with unusual seriousness from the bed across the room. 

Will opened one eye to find his roommate with a bowl of Froot Loops in his lap, his computer open to a news update on the thin screen.

“Is it the killer again?” Will asked, squinting blearily.

“Yeah, dude, it’s some kind of fucked up double homicide this time, I mean not like there’s another kind of double homicide to be had or anything but...they’re just college kids, like us. Might even be Tulane students...oh, God.” Grady’s eyes flashed in suddenly increased alarm as another update skittered across the bottom of the screen. He slammed the laptop shut as Will scrambled up to see what had freaked the mellow stoner out so thoroughly.

“Oh, God,” Will repeated. He sank to his own bed as his heart plummeted to his feet. He’d reopened the laptop to find the reporter warning that the next image to hit the screen would be graphic and disturbing. The screen then displayed a photo of the two corpses which had been found right outside a large gazebo at an idyllic park in Abita Springs.

The two bodies, a young man and woman, had been arranged with gruesomely gorgeous care in an almost exact imitation of a famous statue of Romeo and Juliet. The news anchor explained that the original statue could be found in Central Park, New York, in front of the Delacorte theatre. 

Using some ingenious method of careful posing and human taxidermy, the killer kept them standing, had placed the girl’s long, slender arms around the boy’s neck with his hands on her hips. They were scantily clad, the girl merely wrapped in a silky sheet, the boy clad in tight trousers befitting the Shakespearean era. From a distance, they merely looked wistfully in love, enraptured as the boy leaned down, as if to steal a kiss. 

“I’m so sorry, Will,” said Grady. He was shocked and genuinely horrified on Will’s behalf.

Thank goodness. Somebody should be horrified.

Will was shocked. Beyond that came an avalanche of emotion that kept him pinned to the bed, unable to process what he saw or felt.

The girl was his ex-girlfriend, Sophie, who had tricked him into writing her term paper and then dumped him the second someone “better” came along. The boy was Dan, the bully from his Abnormal Psychology class, who used to trip him and call him a freak for being smarter and more talented than he was.

Will had confided in Hannibal about both troublesome experiences, had complained to his understanding new boyfriend, and this was where it had led.

He had allowed himself to let go of his suspicions far too easily, and this was where it had led.

Hannibal had, after all, promised him one more treat last night.

There were so many words which could be used to describe the killer’s style of arranging his victim’s corpses. The news anchor used some of them quite accurately.

 _Brutal_ \-- their organs taken, most likely while the victims were still conscious.

 _Grotesque_ \-- dead, uncanny humans molded in a semblance of timeless romance.

 _Tragic,_ two young and promising students cut off in their prime.

Will’s mind filled in the rest, wildly spilling the words out inside him, despite the accompanying surge of guilt,

_Romantic._

_Beautiful._

Beautiful, in the most twisted, chilling, poignant way he could have imagined. Hannibal’s revenge against his mean-spirited classmates, then his choice to turn Will’s enemies into a valentine, a profession of complete adoration, even of worship. It was a gesture, as much as the flowers and the meals and every other gift, and it was a plea to be seen and loved.

Will was touched beyond measure; he loved. He wasn’t terrified of the killer, of Hannibal, not at all. He was afraid of himself, and what he was becoming. He was afraid that there was no turning back.

The reporter on Grady’s computer kept on talking and trying in vain to explain matters which were astronomically beyond her purview. 

“...the authorities are now theorizing that the killer’s habit of taking the victim’s organs may in fact be an indication of cannibalism…”

Will gripped his own knees, knuckles going white at the memories of Hannibal’s cookery, the strange, overly gamey flavors which had been so absolutely, uniquely delectable. Hannibal, indoctrinating him, imposing his grand scheme, allowing Will’s understanding to gradually dawn and open like the crammed-shut blossom of his inner darkness, when he was ready. 

_Disgusting. Appalling._

_Seductive._ Will’s deeper, darker self whispered enticingly, the sound stroking his conscience in a wicked suggestion it should relax to this. _Mouth-watering. An honor._

A gift, and a deeply personal one, so intimate it cut right to the heart of things and made him face facts. 

So tempting, he could almost forget this was all so wrong, it ought to be wrenching his guts apart with the real kind of guilt, not the flimsy, surface-level pretense he had already nearly silenced. 

He could almost...give in...become someone else, the one who had been lurking within all along, longing as Hannibal longed, to be seen by the one exactly perfect person who was his match.

Grady assumed Will was caught up in a shock of grieving and left to find the campus counselor, assuring his roommate he would return with help and some breakfast.

When he came back with the counselor in tow, it was to find the room empty. Will was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The statue of Romeo and Juliet: https://www.alamy.com/stock-image-romeo-and-juliet-bronze-statue-near-the-delacorte-theater-in-central-162856060.html


	6. Chapter 6

“ _And I was so young when I behaved twenty five_

_Yet now I find I've grown into a tall child" ___

__\--Mitski_ _

____

____

Hannibal was walking down the hospital hallway after a pre-surgery consultation when he rounded a corner and nearly ran smack into a red-faced, furious-looking Will Graham. 

Fixing a cool and collected look on his face, Hannibal began to ask,“Will, is everything--”

“Find us an empty room, we need to talk,” Will snapped. “ _Now._ ”

Hannibal bristled. No one talked to him like that, not if they wanted to live. No one ordered him about, invaded his personal space in the middle of a work shift, in front of his co-workers and --

Yet he obeyed, certain there was no other way to handle this particular impasse, even if this was to be one of their last encounters, or indeed the final one. They certainly could not have their lover’s dispute here in the crowded hall.

His heart seemed to simultaneously sink in dread and disappointment while his temper flared. So, Will was upset with him for the gift he had crafted with such genuine affection, wanting to create the most remarkable monument to his love. Will, after all, did not understand. They would not suit. 

He led Will into a small, unoccupied exam room and the younger man nearly slammed the door shut behind them, then twisted the lock. Hannibal’s stomach twisted as well, his heart on fire and thudding out of control. 

Oh, how he despised losing control. He turned away from Will for a moment, squeezed his eyes shut and bit the inside of his cheek. The humiliation of taking such a risk, sharing his whole, secret self with Will only to find anger and rejection! It was more than he could bear calmly, but he got his feelings tied back down as best as he could, wrapped in ropes upon the funeral pyre of a love he must destroy in order to thrive, and turned back around, eyes open, jaw tightly clenched, hands slipped into his white doctor’s coat in a false pose of casual concern.

In reality, he was already clenching on the scalpel in his pocket, as Will’s eyes automatically traced the shape of his movements. This boy was far too clever to be trifled with, and that had been a large part of the initial, and continued, deepening obsession. He was not used to facing someone who was a worthy match, an equal, even despite their difference in age and experience with violence.

“I take it you heard the news about the latest murders, those of your peers?” His voice was icy cold, each word clipped, cutting to the quick. He already assumed the worst, and found this theory immediately confirmed.

“I take it you expected me to be pleased?” Will stormed towards him, a force of nature and beauty unrivaled by any other marvel his eyes had beheld -- rosy cheeks, blazing blue eyes like wildfire burning him near to death where he stood. 

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Will fumed. “Even as little as we know each other, you’ve had openings, I’ve _mentioned_ the killer to you, told you how I felt about them.”

“Rather than telling, I wanted to show you. And I think you already know that. You understand, uniquely, but you are left with the choice of whether you will accept or express revulsion with who I truly am.” 

He clenched his jaw tighter to avoid the tears that threatened; he squeezed the handle of the scalpel, but knowing he could end this in a single, deep jab no longer held the comfort for him that it did with his usual victims. It frightened him; he could only see it as a grief-inducing last resort from which he might never recover.

“I do understand,” Will said in frustration, dragging a hand through his riotous curls. As if reminding himself where they were, he kept his voice just above a whisper. “But you can’t just _kill_ people, Hannibal, anytime you want, because it’s fun and it fills you with power and you want to turn something gruesome into something beautiful. I can admire it, I can even _appreciate_ it, but can’t you see that it’s also unbelievably selfish and wrong? Among the five thousand other reasons why, these people, your victims, they have families, for God’s sake.”

“I’m disconnected from the concept of family,” Hannibal admitted, avoiding Will’s eyes because they saw right through him, into the buried turmoil, despair and trauma. “Or I was until I met you.”

“I can’t be responsible for you taking lives, Hannibal.” Will’s lower lip wobbled; he did not attempt to hold back his feelings; he never had. The time was when it made Hannibal feel comfortable opening up too, taking chances, making wildly eccentric gestures in his own strange love language. Now it only made him sadder, the thought that he had come so close to true connection, only to lose it.

After this, he did not think he would possess the wherewithal to open himself again to another. In truth, he had not meant to open up to Will; it had simply...happened. And then he couldn’t seem to stop.

Now he _must_ stop, lest Will report him to the authorities, which was a logical next step after this tangent. It was odd that the young man even stopped by to warn him first, though perhaps a gesture of respect or gratitude for what they had...once shared…

He envisioned his life without Will and saw only an empty, dark room. This would kill his heart and his capacity for sentiment...could he carry on with it?

Will was pacing the room, nervously ranting, “What am I supposed to do?” He rubbed his face, “God!”

How insulting, to be the cause of so much annoyance and inconvenience to someone that meant the whole universe to him, whose presence echoed and lit up the darkest nooks of his memory palace, slipping in through cracks in his walls he never knew existed.

Hannibal tried to channel anger and indignation, but there was only anguish, as he grabbed Will from behind and held the younger man flush against him. 

He got the scalpel up to Will’s throat, but his hand was shaking. Only then did he register that Will didn’t fight back; he stood stock still, pressed tight against Hannibal in a way that once would have led to a much different sort of encounter.

“Go ahead, if you think it’s going to be that easy,” said Will. He held onto Hannibal’s arm where it squeezed across his chest. “But do you really think you can get me out of your system, just like that? If I’m dead, will I be gone?”

“No,” Hannibal nearly sobbed. He released Will, then caressed his face. “Never.”

Will kneed him hard in the stomach, then grabbed the scalpel easily from his hand. Hannibal normally would have been a far deadlier adversary, but Will had already undone him with mere words. As it was, he wheezed, then rose back up to full stature as best he could. 

“I may not look like much, but I’m scrappy. Don’t ever underestimate me,” Will warned, yanking Hannibal’s shirt from his trousers and then holding it up, pressing the sharp tip of the scalpel to his lover’s heart. Hannibal did not flinch either, allowing Will the grace to choose his fate.

“I never have, and I never will. I only wanted to show you, not only who I am, but what we can become together, and the thought that you would greet such a display of my affection with anger and disgust…” Hannibal shook his head, blinking back tears that felt painfully, embarrassingly close. “Perhaps you are right. It will be easier this way, if you kill me now. I can advise you first, on how to hide and later dispose of my body--”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Will scowled, pulling the blade back and then slamming it down on the counter near the sink behind them. He pointed at it, then shook his head to indicate that neither of them was to touch it again. “Don’t you get it?”

He cupped Hannibal’s shocked face and gazed up at him, completely aggravated. “We barely know each other and yet I know you better than _anyone_. I see all of you and I want you, only you, enough to forgive this. But do you think we’re never going to argue? That you’re never going to piss me off, and we won’t have problems like any other couple? Were you just planning to kill me the first time we disagreed?”

“I thought you didn’t want any part of me after seeing what I had done, what I have been doing. It’s an integral part of me; I can’t excise it from my life; I don’t want to. I cannot change. But I wanted so badly to give you all that I am...perhaps it’s absurd, and I know it is far too soon -- I simply cannot stop. You are my obsession, Will, and I…”

Hannibal tried hard to find words, which in itself was still a shocking, alien experience for him. He stared down at Will, begging him to comprehend what was to himself utterly baffling. He could not find words which would allow him to preserve his veneer of perfect competence and most of all his precious pride. They were slipping away, and here it was, in this moment: he was sacrificing what he once feared most to lose, giving his overblown ego and stubborn calm away to panic, for Will.

“ _I don’t know how to do this!_ ” Hannibal exclaimed suddenly, forcefully, tears finally freeing themselves to cascade down his sculpted cheeks and stain his lips. “I don’t know…I don’t _know_.”

“Okay,” Will cut him off. His voice melted from harsh and accusing to so gentle, so caring, in an instant. And he folded Hannibal up in a warm hug, rubbing his back, “Okay, baby.”

Hannibal was shaking, clinging to him. No one had ever called him _baby_ , and the word struck to the core of his humanity, the tender side of himself he had tried to numb since childhood. He needed it. When he was with Will, perhaps that’s all he really was, anyway. In spite of the domestic and sexual games they so enjoyed wherein he took the lead to their mutual arousal, in other respects, he was, to his astonishment, a...big, insecure, needy, trembling _baby._

It was a relief to have Will hold him close and say this. No one else would ever have to know; no one would see Hannibal weeping out of the need to be loved and understood, only Will, and it was safe with him. The feeling of trust was just as shocking to Hannibal as that of truly beginning to love had been, if not more so.

The younger man rocked them gently and added, “That’s fine. Thank you for telling me. We’ll figure it all out.”

Hannibal understood then that it wasn’t only darkness and bloodlust that bound them together; it was equally the way they could read each other’s sadness and soothe it more adeptly than any other. It was, irrevocably, the way they needed each other.

Will’s phone vibrated in his pocket, jostling them both slightly from their distracted overflow of emotion. He pulled back and checked the text, then muttered thoughtfully, “I have to get back to campus, Grady’s worried sick. The police will have questions for me because I dated Sophie. They’ll want to talk to all her friends to find clues…”

“As to potential enemies who would do her harm,” Hannibal nodded.

“I’ll keep them off our trail,” Will explained. “Not because I’m responsible for what happened, because I’m not.”

Hannibal nodded, chastened as a scolded child.

“Because we’re a team.” Will stroked Hannibal’s hair back from his brow. “And I’m going to protect you.”

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal did not usually bite his lip; considered it a nasty habit in most, though endearing in Will because Will could make anything adorable or sexy. He bit his own lip now, though, against the whirlwind of conflicted feelings still tearing through his mind palace.

“I’ll give the shelter a call, let them know I’ll have to pick Ricki up tomorrow afternoon instead of today. The cops will probably have me busy for the rest of the day. Classes will be cancelled for this week, though, for obvious reasons.”

Hannibal arched a pale brow at Will’s nonchalant insinuations of near-normalcy. “You mean, despite what has happened, you are still planning to adopt the...our dog?”

“Of course I am. She’s ours, she belongs with us, like you belong with me. And tomorrow night, when this is all over and Ricki’s asleep on her new pillow, you and I are going to have a nice, long _talk_ about everything.”

Hannibal swallowed. “Very well, my dear.”

“You understand it isn’t going to be a pleasant talk for you, right?” Will asked, slight, complicated amusement softening his tone. He rolled his eyes, probably more at his own weakness for the killer than anything else. “We have to lay some ground rules, and talk about where we go from here. Alright?”

“I’ll be ready for whatever you wish to discuss,” Hannibal decided, even though the word “rules” by its very nature was equally amenable to him as the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard, a trip to McDonald’s, or shopping for clothing at the mall.

“See you tomorrow.” With a small, grim smile that left a sharp pang of doubt in Hannibal’s heart, Will nodded and went on his way.

***

Hannibal came home the following evening from a lengthy shift which he had worked the rest of under the impression it was a funeral march. After all, Will had spent quite a bit of time by now dealing with the consequences of Hannibal’s crime, and there was every chance he might have changed his mind about being here tonight, or ever again. He half-expected his apartment building to be surrounded by police. But it was not.

When he entered the building, he could hear the distinct sound of barking from his apartment, and his steps quickened in response -- none of his neighbors here had a dog, so this meant Ricki -- and therefore, _Will_. 

He forced himself not to burst in and run to his lover, instead carefully entering and making his way through the kitchen to the outdoor patio area, sliding the glass door aside to find Will on the deck, holding up a dog biscuit, looking down at Ricki with a playful smile.

“Now, sit,” Will chuckled as Ricki cast him a hesitant look. Still, she followed the command, doubtless a continuation of the training Will had been providing since bringing her home. Despite her happy, good-natured personality, the dog was a bit rebellious and the shelter workers had never fully been able to train her. 

On top of this, the dog was a bit overly stout, especially considering her short legs, and she had a mild visual impairment. Will made sure to complete all of his actions with large movements, close enough that she would be sure to easily see and understand. It touched Hannibal, that Will had nearly gone out of his way to bestow his attachment upon the most awkward and misunderstood dog in residence at the shelter, the one least likely to be adopted by anyone else.

“You’re very kind to her,” Hannibal observed, and Will glanced over his shoulder after giving Ricki the treat. He patted Ricki’s head as the dog sat proudly, pleased to have pleased her master. 

“Hi, Hannibal.” Will sat down on the deck and continued stroking Ricki’s soft brown fur. “Such a good girl, Ricki, aren’t you? You’re going to love it here.” His clever sapphire eyes sparkled as the dog leaned her head to nuzzle into his touch and he glanced around the beautiful patio and lawn with its pristine garden. 

“Not exactly like any place a couple of strays like us expected to end up, huh, girl?” Will laughed when Ricki gave a short, soft bark, almost as if she was agreeing.

Hannibal’s heart sat heavy in his chest. He did not know the name for this particular, highly unpleasant sensation but it might be something like guilt. This was supposed to be a special experience for Will, the day he brought their dog home, but instead he had marred it, nearly ruined it with his ill-thought attempt to express his love through murder. Was that a love language he would simply have to muzzle, like a foolish animal being trained by Will’s wise and exceptionally forgiving nature? He felt another sensation creeping back in, a familiar one he despised: the slight suggestion, in his flushed face and nervous hands fidgeting over the patio furniture, one chair at a time as he paced. He was ashamed of himself. He felt regret.

“It’s generous of you to spend so much time and patience on her after the difficult days you must have had, being questioned by the authorities and dealing with the aftermath of your acquaintances' deaths.” Hannibal squeezed the back of the chair, irrationally wishing there was something sharp he could use to wound himself as he dealt with this intolerable situation. He wished there was someone else to blame, but he had brought this upon them all by himself.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Will answered breezily, genuinely. “We’ve been having so much fun, girl, haven’t we? And there’s nothing to worry about; it was a long ordeal back at campus, but nobody suspects me of being involved with the killings.”

He looked up at Hannibal, registering the solemn and worried expression on his face, and added, “Will you make us dinner? Then we should take Ricki for a walk. She’ll sleep after that and we can talk.”

Hannibal nodded, and the fierce monster within him who answered to no one should have been screaming at him not to go along with Will’s every suggestion like a child who feared being sent to his room if he disobeyed. Instead, the monster sulked, needy, black, blood-dripping claws reaching out for Will’s angelic form not to hurt but to love. 

“Certainly. I’ll get to work on dinner right away.” 

Will obviously noticed the almost mechanical tone in his voice which indicated deep melancholy and a frail attempt to hide it, to shield himself from further pain. The pain came from vulnerability and the way Hannibal had gotten used to associating it with humiliation. 

It seemed they both had much to learn about life and love, and no other person in the world who could properly teach them, except for each other. If Will wanted him to fully explain what he was and why, down to the last detail, Hannibal could not deny him the honesty, but afterwards...if he ran away, too horrified at last by the full story Hannibal unfurled, how would Hannibal possibly cope? 

He imagined some possibilities as he went through the motions of preparing a simple meal, steaks (as long as he was at it, he reasoned, he might as well make them properly, au poivre, crispy exterior and juicy rare inside, Will would like that --), with haricots verts (herb butter and lemon, of course) and mashed potatoes (no, duchess potatoes, of course, for a much lovelier presentation). He imagined Will leaving him, transferring to another college and forgetting all about his mistaken affair with an older doctor lacking the moral foundation to be a good enough partner. He thought of Will putting the whole business down to youthful folly and naivete, forgiving himself the mistake and dating someone new, closer to his age, more stable, _normal_. Will, happy without him someday.

Hannibal could picture no other consequence of this than that he himself would run mad. He would become the monster _only_ , with no more facade of human emotion or elegance to hold him back. Most likely, he would begin to kill so frequently and gruesomely that he would be swiftly caught. If he was lucky, he might be shot and killed when he was arrested; if unlucky, he might pass the rest of his days in prison, before being executed--

How many years would they make him wait?

How many years had he waited for Will, lost in the desolate halls of his own mind palace, alone in every way that mattered?

“Hannibal?” Will asked, coming inside and closing the sliding door behind him. “Go and sit on your pillow, Ricki. No, I mean it.” 

His concerned look at Hannibal shifted momentarily to a smile at the dog’s weak attempt to ignore his command. She finally scampered off to settle into her pillow, the nicest one the store had on offer, which Will had hesitated to even point out to Hannibal due to the price tag. Hannibal had been so immeasurably delighted at the chance to spoil him with anything in this world he might like to have, and his goals had not changed.

Will washed his hands as Hannibal cooked, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the familiar rituals of cooking which he usually found comforting, to no avail tonight. 

“This isn’t the last supper, Hannibal, please.” Will put one warm hand on Hannibal’s back as he labored over the steaks, and Hannibal’s stiff posture relaxed just a bit. “Please don’t look so worried. It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Difficult not to worry,” he said simply, turning the stove off. As he began plating their meal, he added, “Would you prefer a red or white wine this evening?”

“I would _prefer_ you to pick it out for us yourself, because you know what kind would go best with the meal.” Will smirked at him reprovingly. “I would prefer you to believe me when I say I want to be here and I’m not going anywhere. I want you to be _you._ Be bossy and make decisions for me, just...keep it to reasonable decisions from now on. I still like that.”

Hannibal nodded, disoriented by the confused blur of emotion in his heart, about which there was nothing reasonable. The floor seemed to sway beneath his feet; nothing about the world seemed reliable when he was uncertain Will’s resolve to stay would last. Was love supposed to feel quite so much like sea-sickness? 

“I think a zinfandel,” he replied after a delay, the time it took him to swallow back an apparent panic attack. “I have a spicy one which will surprise you with its abundant and nuanced taste. The cheap pink wine revolution has given the entire species a bad reputation, but this will nicely set off the richness of the meat with its fruity…”

“Yes,” Will said, his eyes so soft that Hannibal couldn’t look into them for very long. It hurt that Will was being so patient with him. Perhaps he would have preferred a slap to the face or another grapple over a scalpel -- these were things he understood, after all. But this gentleness, the strained affection, it was so much worse…

“I think that sounds wonderful,” Will continued. He helped Hannibal to carry the food and wine into the dining room, and they had a quiet meal for the most part.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Will asked after a few minutes passed with Hannibal staring dejectedly down at the resplendent meal on his plate. “This is absolutely amazing, of course it is.”

“Oh,” said Hannibal, realizing he had forgotten to eat. He speared a small bite of steak on his fork and began doing his best to partake. All he could seem to manage was a few morsels, and his hands seemed to be shaking again.

“Alright,” Will smiled, gracious to the last. He stood, setting aside his napkin, and reached for Hannibal’s hand. “We can save the doubtless perfect dessert you’ve made for later. I really think we should talk first.”

Yes, it was best they get this over with, so that Hannibal could learn his fate. The suspense was tearing him apart inside, and if he was to be abandoned, he would rather learn of it sooner than later.

***

After a moonlit walk with Ricki which under other circumstances would have been quite lovely, but tonight did nothing but continue Hannibal’s mortified sense of cliffhanging dread, Will settled the dog into her luxury bed and found Hannibal standing across the living room, still rather pale and still.

“C’mon,” Will said, taking his hand and tugging it gently, awakening him from his latest rumination of misery, “The bedroom.”

In the bedroom, Will silently stripped them both of all clothing, then turned the bed covers down and said again, “Come here, Hannibal.”

They settled under the sheets and Will put his head on Hannibal’s chest, one arm looped around his bare stomach. “Now. There’s nothing between us except the truth. I want you to start at the beginning and tell me everything about yourself.”

“But…” Hannibal winced but Will stroked his skin tenderly, his chest, his belly, up to his shoulders and neck, pressing small, soft kisses everywhere he touched. 

“But nothing,” Will murmured, sweet and understanding but meaning business. “Remember the first night we met, when you deliberately got me to tell you my whole life story and then changed the subject whenever your own past came up? We’re done with half-measures and manipulations, Hannibal. I want all of you, and I know that’s what you want to give me. In your own way, that’s what you were trying to tell me...with Sophie and Dan. Wasn’t it?”

Hannibal nodded. “Yes.”

“So when and where were you born?” Will kissed his bicep, looking up into his frightened eyes, his own gaze steady and heartfelt. “What was your family like? Why did you become a doctor, do you like it? Why did you become a killer, and why do you eat people? And out of a world of people you seem to disdain so entirely, why the hell do you like _me_?”

Hannibal took a deep breath and began, squeezing Will’s arm on occasion when he came to the harshest memories, those of Mischa’s fate, of the hollow disappointment of trying to avenge her. It was easier to speak of what followed, especially since Will remained where he was, sighing in sadness and rubbing his face into Hannibal’s chest, pressing kisses there over his hammering heartbeat. He gave Hannibal the solace and understanding which he had never had before, with regard to these anguished events. He did not express revulsion at Hannibal’s conduct, even as he went on to explain his evolution into a life of crime, his enjoyment of the hunt and how he gloried in making art of his victims.

When he had thoroughly explained everything of himself and his past, bringing them with a voice laden in nervousness to the present day, Hannibal ran his fingers through Will’s soft brown curls and knew how he wanted to end this story. 

“Now you know of my history, although it cannot entirely account for the uniquely deviant manifestations of my personality and habits. You knew when we met that I enjoy saving lives out of a sense of power. Now you know I delight in wielding that power over others in the opposite sense as well, that I hunger for blood in the most literal sense of the word, as I hunger for art and beauty, and for you.”

Will drew himself up to sit beside Hannibal then, their shoulders touching, their eyes caught in an indefinable gaze of dawning comprehension. A lump shifted in Will’s throat and he looked very serious, but beyond that Hannibal could not tell what he felt about it all.

“And I do not like you, Will,” Hannibal continued, smiling ever so slightly when Will raised his eyebrows. “I love you.”

He withdrew his gaze and stared down at his hands, thinking he was liable to give himself a chronic case of stiff neck if this maddeningly insecure habit continued much longer. It was too overwhelming to look at Will full-on; he could not manage it in the least.

“Hey. Don’t do that with me.” Will climbed into his lap, straddling him, and clasped his face. “Don’t go into hiding. If I ever want you to leave,” He smiled tenderly, repeating words which Hannibal had once used to soothe his own fears, “which is exceedingly unlikely, I will say so.”

Hannibal nodded, looking at him enthralled, as he would gaze upon the Sistine Chapel or the _Primavera_ , but more, deeper and fuller, past infatuation and obsession. Into love.

“I thought you might run away. I wasn’t quite sure I would blame you if you did.” He batted a tear from one eye and Will took his hand, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

Merciful angel. How could Hannibal begin to deserve…

“Why aren’t you running away, Will?” _Everyone else has. Anyone else would._

“Because,” Will said, as if it was perfectly obvious, “I don’t like you either.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: detailed description of cannibalistic dinner, and extreme amounts of fluffiness 🥰

There were, of course, rules to be laid down after Hannibal related his story. Will disapproved quite thoroughly of his habit of killing those he found merely rude or annoying, although to Hannibal’s relief he did not condemn the hunt itself altogether.

“You must know you can’t _‘you-know-what’_ anyone else, not anytime soon,” Will reasoned as they took Ricki out for her morning walk. 

They had decided Jackson Square would be a lovely place to stroll after their breakfast at a cafe with outdoor seating. Ricki had watched them with excitement from her reclined place on the sidewalk beside their table, and Will and Hannibal had watched each other, sipping coffee and breaking off pieces of pastry to share (Will cautioning Hannibal not to share any with Ricki, however, with a quick, tsking, “Hannibal, I saw that. Uh-uh.”). 

They were still exchanging brief, wondering looks at each other as they breathed in the fresh, vivifying early October breeze kissing the splendid morning’s aura of new beginnings.

How were they really here? Hannibal kept questioning it, beside himself with revived hopes for the future.

“Hannibal, are you listening to me?” Will chided, unable to quite stifle a smile. He likely guessed the cause behind his lover’s distraction.

“Yes, indeed. No more of ‘you-know-what’,” he spoke in a suitably low voice such as Will had used. He even found his confidence rising to the point of bestowing a coy smile. “Until…”

“Well, who knows,” Will shrugged, “Ricki, no, that’s not food, leave it alone. Hannibal, you said yourself that meeting me made you loosen up on your usual restraint, and here you’ve -- _you know_ \-- three people in N’awlins within a month. Plus, you’ve been parading yourself around Tulane, courting me like Count Dracula meets Mr. Darcy, during the same timeframe that two of my classmates you-know-what. If you don’t cool it, it’s inevitable you’re going to draw suspicion to yourself.”

“I hope you don’t mean I should ‘cool’ my intentions towards you, Will.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, and you know it. I _mean_ ,” he stole a short kiss as Ricki tugged the leash again, excited to keep exploring the pretty park. “I mean you’re going to calm down in the _other_ way for a while.”

“Perhaps someday, if we decided to relocate...after your graduation...if you wanted to…” Hannibal brushed a hand through his own hair, experiencing a Prufrockian flinch of _”how should I presume?_ ” 

“That is,” he continued, “if your own inclination is also to enjoy an occasional indulgence in _‘you-know-what’_ , and you would be amenable to our selecting _participants_ who are corrupt and despicable, as you did indicate last night during our discussion…”

“Hannibal,” Will smiled, carefully winding the leash around his hand to keep Ricki still for a few moments. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “The time will come. And when it does, I’ll want your hand on mine over the knife. I’ll want you to teach me and show me everything you know. We’ll feast on them together…”

“My love,” Hannibal said huskily, “I find that your suggestions are having a definitive effect on me.”

“Good.” Will raised his brows with a saucy smile and resumed their walk, much to Ricki’s delight.

Hannibal almost tripped over his own feet when Will added, using a casual enough tone that anyone in the park who overheard them would think it was light conversation, “Maybe you can teach me something new tonight.”

***

Will came home that evening with a worn-out canvas duffle slung over one shoulder, containing the majority of his worldly possessions. Ricki greeted him first, a wild pile of fur and yelps of greeting, making him laugh as he petted her head.

“Okay, girl, down, calm down,” he instructed.

Hannibal came into the living room with his apron tied around his waist, surveying the scene, Will with his pink cheeks and bright blue eyes, chuckling as the dog struggled to contain her enthusiasm. The bag on his shoulder, with its clear indication he had come back to stay, this time. For the moment he seemed content to linger in the background of the homey scene, taking it all in, the reality of Will’s presence in his life.

“I swear, I’m working on her to quiet down with the barking,” Will explained, whistling and snapping his fingers to guide Ricki back to her pillow. “Hope she hasn’t been messing with your routine around here, interrupting your…”

Hannibal smiled, so delightedly intent, slinking closer and taking Will’s bag, then planting a kiss to his forehead. He waited expectantly for Will to continue.

“Your, you know, cooking and piano playing, drawing...reading...deep books and stuff, the whole, thing you do…” Will was flustered, made so by the sensuous depth to Hannibal’s dark gaze, the enticing twitch of slight amusement around his lips.

“I assure you, she is a charming addition to the household. I will certainly be grateful, however, for your continued application of expertise towards her calmer disposition. Her harmonies on my piano compositions are perhaps not appropriate to the overall mood.”

Will followed him through to the bedroom -- _their_ bedroom, and laugh-winced. “Sorry.”

“Please do not be.” Hannibal set Will’s bag on the bed, his expression thoughtful. “I want you to have everything in our home that will make you happy.”

“What about what you need to be happy?” Will felt a bit overwhelmed, so he kept himself busy, slowly unpacking his t-shirts, shorts and trousers, placing them in the drawers which Hannibal had emptied out for him.

“I’m looking at it mylimasis, beloved,” Hannibal answered, beaming, his smile contagious. “Did you bring your charming figurines, the one you had in your window at the dormitory?”

“Oh, you mean the chipped-porcelain assortment of childhood ephemera?” Will asked self-consciously. He unzipped the small front pouch of the duffle and drew them out, one by one, laying them in a row on the bed. The contrast of old, cheaply made trinkets against the rich, deep blue duvet was severe.

“I don’t go anywhere without them, but uh, I don’t think there’s a spot they would really fit in here.”

“I think you should put them on top of the dresser,” Hannibal suggested. “They represent the dreams of your childhood, do they not? As such, I would be honored.”

“I used to think I was like these,” Will mused, placing a small dachshund on the bureau top, then a petulant-looking beagle and a poodle whose lofty attitude always made him smile. “Porcelain, so breakable. I felt like I could shatter at any moment, if someone just looked at me the wrong way.”

“Porcelain is forged in fire.” Hannibal placed a warm hand on his shoulder and Will met his eyes with reciprocated admiration. “What you have endured has made you beautiful and strong, in ways no one can ever take away.”

“Thank you.” Will kissed him softly, then nodded back over to the bed, where there were some of his own clothes neatly laid out. “What’s that all about?”

“I thought you might wear that for dinner.” Hannibal’s eyes twinkled with a particular combination of seductive mischief and tenderness that set Will’s pulse jumping as heat swept up his neck. “I have something special planned.”

“Hmm.” Will surveyed the outfit, which was the same one he had worn to the rooftop party on the night they met: white oxford, khaki shorts, leather sandals. “A trip down memory lane? I’m intrigued.”

“You should take some time to rest,” Hannibal suggested, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be in the kitchen if there’s anything you need.”

***

When Will arrived in the dining room for dinner, he sucked in a breath at the romantic ambiance and decadent atmosphere. Hannibal had gone overboard, big time, and Will loved it.

The table looked like a gothic garden, laden in black and maroon roses, thorny vines twined around tall, blood-red and shocking violet candles in a center piece that was nothing less than arresting. A shimmering velvet cloth covered the table beneath, and an elaborate display of plump, juicy, exotic fruits made Will’s mouth water, equally from beauty as from hunger. There was a large dragonfruit, spiny fuchsia exterior split open to reveal its softly glistening white insides, dotted with black seeds, and beside it a circlet of Spanish limes, the green skin half-intact, leaving a shiny orange globe inside. The effect made Will think of a human with their scalp removed, brain exposed to open air; it sent a shiver of fearful wonder down his spine.

Violence was a constant presence in every inch of Hannibal’s beauty. The killer infused it though life like a thread stitching ecstatically, poking through the fabric of normal reality. In everything there was a sense of reveling in the fragility of mortality while flaunting it; in everything defiance of God, yet haunted, always haunted by a deeper sadness, carefully cherished and preserved like a dwindling flame. Will understood it all now, the origin of the melancholy and its outlet through blood and beauty. He understood Hannibal, and took him as his own.

“Will, you’re just on time,” Hannibal greeted, beaming as he came into the room bearing a large tray replete with fare so endearingly fussy that it would probably take Will several minutes of careful examination to properly identify each item. Luckily, he had Hannibal to help him with that, and would far rather listen to another of his boyfriend’s lofty epicurean speeches than solve this latest culinary mystery in his own mind.

Hannibal’s manner was exactly what Will would have expected if they didn’t actually see each other that often, but by some lucky miracle of scheduling had managed to meet up on this momentous and much-appreciated occasion. He grinned, joyful at the way his presence in Hannibal’s life continued as a beloved novelty. And he didn’t think he would ever fully get used to it either, being so adored.

“Hannibal, this is...I mean, it’s transcendent. I feel like I’ve been invited to the most tempting bacchanal for two.”

“Feeling hedonistic, Will?” Hannibal carefully arranged the platter with his usual insistence on perfection. Flattering, to be considered the guest of honor in the midst of all this finery.

“Um, yes,” he said, biting his lip against a giggle. His skin heated up at the way Hannibal looked at him; it was pure sex. “I have to admit, I feel a little underdressed, though.”

“I wanted you to wear your attire from the first night we met, as later on, there is something I should like to do. I was thinking of it that night on the rooftop, but there were so many people around us, and more than that...I was not yet certain you would like it.”

Will tried and failed to conjure too many ways Hannibal could have been more blatantly flirtatious that night, aside from actually having him in the middle of the party, spread on the table of appetizers, and his cheeks got pinker. 

“Okay,” he managed to reply, impatient already for this gorgeous meal to be over. He tried his best to stall the insistent rush of his libido, wanting to savor every moment of this lovely evening, especially after all the work Hannibal had put into it.

When Will looked askance at the entree, Hannibal replied, ladling food onto Will’s plate, “Honey-glazed chicken breast, with a sauce of duxelles and oyster mushrooms.”

Will glanced at the tantalizing array of food on his plate, crisp chicken slices glistening with the tangy-sweet glaze, surrounded by the fanciest mushrooms he’d ever seen, which smelled rich and savory. With an appreciative smile, he began cutting into his chicken, by which time he noticed that Hannibal had helped himself to a second, different sort of meat on the center platter.

“And what are you having?” He asked, insatiably curious.

“Langue d’agneau,” Hannibal replied with a smile, always eager to add to Will’s ongoing education.

And what a multifaceted education it was…

“That’s um, tongue…” Will had been in New Orleans long enough to pick up his fair share of French. “Lamb tongue. Do you think I would like it?”

“I hope it won’t trouble you, mylimasis, for me to embrace honesty on this occasion. But I must admit I called it lamb in the sense that it was an immature, bleating creature.”

_It’s Sophie’s tongue_ , Will guessed, not knowing how to feel, except very, very weird.

Guilty? Yes, certainly, still, probably always. He hoped he would always keep his conscience despite the way being with Hannibal tended to numb the instinct, blunt the edges of it enough for him to focus so much more on the gift this murder had been, or even the slightly humorous aspect of consuming the tongue of someone who had so often used it to cause him emotional harm. He was sorry Sophie was dead, in some respects, but he wasn't going to miss listening to her snarky voice saying _'no need to'_ do this or that.

“Yes,” he concluded, agreeing with Hannibal. "She really was." 

Hannibal nodded with a smug smile. 

Will sipped his wine thoughtfully, then added, “You’re telling me you invited me to a romantic candlelit dinner, and human tongue is on the menu.”

“Well, not for you, my dear. I assumed you would rather not partake.”

Will smirked. “No, you didn’t assume that. You set the meat out deliberately to pique my curiosity, knowing that if you acted all casual, I’d only be more determined to know all about it. And you’re trying to see if I’m still mad at you, for feeding me people before without telling me; for taking it upon yourself to kill Sophie and Dan to remove their bothersome presence in my life.”

“And are you? Still mad?” Hannibal set his silverware down and straightened the table-cloth with a sudden, flustered.

“A little, yes.” Will reached over and used the large serving forks to add some of the tongue to his own plate, adding a drizzle of the mushroom sauce. “How is it?”

“Quite exquisite, if I do say so myself.” But Hannibal was looking at Will, eyes fixed only on the younger man’s complicated expression of fond, mild annoyance slowly melting into a distinct tease.

“Mmm,” Will murmured as he tasted a thin slice of the tongue. 

The flavor was bracing but succulent, and he knew instinctively as bright citrus notes danced on his own tongue that Sophie had been terrified in her final moments, even more so than he had assumed. His happiness served to dim his formerly dominant guilty side, and the beast within him smiled in communion with Hannibal’s, a joining that felt intensely holy in its blasphemy. 

“I have to admit she was loathsome,” Will allowed. “And this is scrumptious, not least of all because you killed and cooked her to please us both.”

“The hunt is a savage pleasure,” Hannibal said, “one we can share.”

“Yes, someday. For now, I really hope you enjoy the meal. Because you aren’t going to be killing anyone else for quite a while. You’re also never killing anyone again just because they hurt me.”

“How do you really feel about it?” Hannibal sliced through Will’s reserve on the matter more easily than Will’s knife slid into the tongue for another bite. “The idea that I cannot tolerate others using you ill, disrespecting and abusing you, rather than worshipping at your altar as they should?”

Deferring the question even as his cock twitched to life at the words, Will countered, “If they worshipped me too well, you’d kill them for that, too.”

Hannibal took a long drink of cabernet that looked very satisfying, especially given Will’s longing to lick the flavor from his lips. “Yes, I would. And how would you feel, if someone hurt me, or if someone made too manifest their sexual desire for me? What would you do, my Will?”

“I don’t know what I’d do,” Will admitted, “But I know what I’d _want_ to do.” _Tear them limb from limb, paint the ground with their entrails._

“That’s good.” Hannibal smiled, the cat who got the cream. “Hold onto that feeling.”

***

After dessert, Hannibal brought Will to the living room and turned on the stereo, which was tuned in to the ‘80’s music station. As Will raised his eyebrows, lips forming a soft “o” of curiosity, Hannibal came close, smelling of rich cologne, emanating delicious body heat, bearing a sensuous and intent smile. He undid Will’s shorts, slowly, maintaining eye contact, _teasing_ Will deliberately, and when they fell to his ankles, he folded them and tossed them to a nearby chair.

Will looked away from Hannibal’s sexy predator face -- a real challenge -- long enough to glance down at himself and realize he was dressed in his _Risky Business_ attire from the rooftop party once again. 

“Feeling sentimental?” He croaked, then cleared his throat. God, he was really bad at being smooth, and the way Hannibal’s every gesture made flames seem to lick over his skin was not helping.

“Very much so, my dear. May I have this dance?” Hannibal bowed slightly and offered his hand.

With bright cheeks and a thrill of anticipation singing through him, caught almost deliriously between tenderness and an aching need to be seduced, Will followed Hannibal’s lead into a slow dance. The song playing happened to be almost too apt, “Crazy for You” by Madonna; yet the lyrics seemed to reflect something much deeper and truer in Will’s heart than a sly dig at their mutual weirdness:

_”I'm crazy for you  
Touch me once and you'll know it's true  
I never wanted anyone like this  
It's all brand new  
You'll feel it in my kiss…”_

“This is what you wanted, that first night?” Will asked, his breath warm against Hannibal’s neck, arms wrapped around him, allowing Hannibal to control the gentle sway of their motion. He chortled, “You could have asked me to dance, you know.”

“I would have found it difficult, given the setting, to do as I pleased during our dance. When you are dressed like this, the idea of keeping my hands to myself becomes quite abhorrent.” Hannibal’s voice was something just below a murmur, words tumbling out in husky need, his hands traipsing over Will’s back, then lower.

“ _Oh_ ,” Will sighed with his face pressed closer, kissing Hannibal’s neck as the older man began to caress his ass, large hands cupping his rear over thin cotton underwear. 

They were still dancing, dizzy, and he bit languidly into Hannibal’s neck, enjoying the way this made the doctor grope him more shamelessly, a ragged sigh bursting from his lips.

_”Slowly now we begin to move  
Every breath I'm deeper into you  
Soon we two are standing still in time  
If you read my mind, you'll see  
I'm crazy for you…"_  


Hannibal claimed his lips in a deep kiss as he slid his hands inside the back of Will’s underwear, lavishing another thorough caress and squeeze before letting them also fall to the floor, to be immediately kicked away by Will.

“I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be too impatient the first time,” Will worried, his voice strained by potent longing. 

“I take that as a compliment.” Hannibal smiled, eyes closed, and rested his forehead to Will’s, still stroking his fingers lazily over Will’s behind. He gripped Will’s hips then and brought them flush to his own, so that Will could understand they were both hard and ready. “Don’t you think I’ve been dying to have you all of this time, my darling? Can’t you taste it in every kiss?”

“Want you so much.” Will’s voice was needy, just this side of a whine, as his hand tightened on Hannibal’s shirt, twisting it hard enough to leave wrinkles. “Please take me to bed.”

“Your wish is my command.” Hannibal was teasing again but it was too gentle to inspire resentment. He clasped Will’s face, demanding his eye contact, thumbs rubbing over his jaw in a soothing touch, grounding him to the moment. “We may both feel impatience, but I must take my time with you, Will. You’re trusting me to introduce you, show you aspects of the art of love with which you have no experience. I would never taint this with unnecessary pain, nor rush to the extent of depriving you one moment of pleasure.”

“And what about...the necessary pain?” Will asked a little nervously. It was all well and good as long as he didn’t let himself dwell too much on that part, but now he was wondering again, just how much was it going to hurt? Would it always hurt, or just the first time, and would he mind that?

Hannibal smiled. “Never underestimate the pleasure which a little well-placed pain can bring, my brilliant boy.”

***

Hannibal lit a row of candles on the table by the bedroom window as Will watched, looking between the confident, broad-shouldered form of his lover in the hazy lighting, and the big, slightly intimidating bed. 

“Allow me,” Hannibal smiled, unbuttoning Will’s shirt, then lowering him to the bed as Will looked up at him with wonderment, too many kisses having already left his lips reddened and beestung, too much curiosity and nervousness making him tremble.

The bed was lucious, rose petals scattered over silk sheets, and Hannibal hovered over Will, stroking his face, murmuring something soft and sweet in Lithuanian, _”aš tave myliu_ ,” before he pressed gentle, tentative kisses to Will’s lips as if they’d never kissed before. Feeling every inch the blushing virgin, Will gave into the way Hannibal’s savoring tenderness opened up that special, aching place inside him that longed to be filled; it was in his pounding heart and the rigid pulse of his erection, more places that had never felt special attention, much less pleasure. Ways he never knew he needed to be touched, ways Hannibal could show him.

“I love you, and I’ll take very special care of you, now and always.” Hannibal laced their fingers together, pressing Will’s hands into the bed, anchoring him with the touch so that Will’s breathing evened out. 

Will gazed up at him, transfixed, as his legs relaxed and fell open, still shaky. He took in the sight of Hannibal’s wet, big brown eyes and the fear twitching in his adoring smile. 

“This is real, Hannibal,” he assured his lover, quickly understanding the cause of his stifled anxiety. “We’re everything to each other, and I’ll always need you just like this. Doesn’t matter how I know, I just do. I mean, I know I’m young, and…”

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal kissed his lips, holding him firmly to the bed, grinding down into him, knowing how to do this so that their cocks dragged together with sweet friction, the only pain that of needing so much more intimate and direct contact. “I trust your instincts implicitly. I want to help you learn how to trust yourself as much as I do.”

Their kisses heated up, making Hannibal growl and force himself to slow down again. Will bit back an excited giggle, but only just barely.

“You provocative thing,” Hannibal chided, “punishing” Will with another slide of his bulging clothed cock against Will’s urgently filled out, precum-dripping naked hardness. “Do you like to make me wild for you?”

“Yes,” Will whispered as Hannibal nosed into his neck and began leaving bites, licks and suck marks, still grinding into him rhythmically. He nearly clawed at Hannibal’s back as he threw his head back on a mewl. “I could almost come just from that,” he choked out, his body tense and sensitive all over.

Hannibal petted through Will's curls with a gentle smile. “If I bring you to the edge enough times without allowing you to fall over, when the moment finally arrives it will be much more satisfying.” 

“Okay, I trust you,” Will nodded. “But Hannibal?”

The older man looked up from his position over Will, laving his tongue down to Will’s low belly, making the boy’s hips buck. “Yes, Will?”

“Please, um, can you explain everything you’re gonna do, the way you just did? It helps me to relax.”

“Of course.” Hannibal continued in his soothing rumble of a voice, “I’m going to suck your cock, my darling --”

Will whimpered in an immediate jolt of further arousal at the dirty talk coming from the sophisticated doctor. “God--”

Hannibal licked at Will’s erection, squeezing his ass. “I’ll get you close again, so close, mylimasis. Then I’ll stop, and you’ll feel a momentary twinge of painful deprivation, no more. Is that alright?”

“Yes, please.” Will closed his eyes as Hannibal followed through on his naughty plan, sucking him with fervent enjoyment, playing with his balls, caressing his ass -- he felt sure he was going to explode any second now despite Hannibal’s expert attempt to delay it -- the pleasure was ratcheting tighter and higher by the second --

Hannibal pulled his mouth away and the burgeoning orgasm halted, making Will give a sharp shout of discomfort. 

“But,” he pouted, and Hannibal kissed the pout away.

“My angel, it’s for your own good. I’m going to show you something else now, something I hope you will enjoy just as much as my previous oral attentions.”

Curiosity came in to blot out Will’s burst of petulance at the orgasm delay. “What is it?” he asked, brow furrowed, curls tossed haphazardly over his forehead. 

Hannibal leveled him with a mischievous smile, then guided him caringly, placing a pillow under his behind, comforting him when he trembled again in baffled anticipation of the next mysterious step of the process.

“Are you going to...you know, fuck me now?” Will inquired, blushing fiercely.

“You will need a great deal more preparation before we come to that, dearest, although I assure you that to be inside of you is the most passionate dream of my existence. First…” He bit each of Will’s ass cheeks, then kissed all over his behind. This was pleasant enough, expected enough, that Will relaxed again, until Hannibal kissed his asshole, then licked it with the sort of deeply savoring approach he used in their mouth to mouth french kissing sessions.

“Jesus!” Will almost jolted upright. “Um, are you sure you’re supposed to do that?”

Hannibal chuckled and squeezed his ass cheeks again, licking his lips as he gazed up at Will, his hooded eyes dark with desire. “Oh, yes, my darling boy. You have no idea how I’ve longed to taste you here. I could dedicate whole nights merely to the act of doing so, although tonight I am content to indulge it as part of our foreplay.”

“Licking, uh, down there?” Will asked. He bit his lip, embarrassed for some unaccountable reason. It was so incredibly naughty, so intimate that the idea of it almost frightened him. “If you’re sure, then I guess you can…”

That was the only invitation Hannibal needed. “It will make you begin to feel wonderfully ready to have all of me,” he murmured, fixated on the gleaming, tightly squeezing entrance before he kissed it again, briskly, then more thoroughly.

Hannibal leaned back slightly to blow all over the skin he’d wettened, and Will felt a full-body quiver of pleasure. “Fuck,” he cried out, making Hannibal smile again, massaging his thighs. 

He pressed his tongue fully against Will’s hole, allowing the younger man to absorb the feeling, the wet flat of his tongue pressed tight to his entrance. He got more aggressive, releasing a series of heated sighs, licking at Will the way someone would enjoy a lollipop or ice cream.

Will was bewildered -- he had never considered this sort of thing before, didn’t even know it was a thing anyone did. He cursed his sheltered childhood and lack of friends to clue him in on the salacious details of sex. When he was with his few previous partners, he’d just followed his instincts and called to mind the sex scenes in his favorite Hollywood films, which were so basic and tepid compared to this -- it felt strange but then there would come the sudden tingling thrill from Hannibal’s licking that made him realize strange could be really, really fucking good -- amazing, even --

After circling the rim with his tongue again, Hannibal paused and announced with his voice tight, “I’m going to push my tongue inside you now, Will.” 

Will started again and Hannibal squeezed his hand. “It’s going to feel very, very good, my love. Do you trust me?”

“Mmhmm,” Will got out anxiously. He let go of Hannibal’s hand reluctantly so that the older man could hold his ass in place for what would come next. Then Will gripped the sheets and closed his eyes in tremulous anticipation.

Hannibal _spat_ on his hole first, _generously_ , which Will also hadn’t known was a thing, and he blurted “Oh!” before melting again into a pleasured moan. It felt fucking dirty and hot.

Hannibal prodded his tongue gently inside Will’s slightly loosened and very wet ass, and the feeling was euphoric -- all Will could think about was how this was almost as good as Hannibal’s cock pressing in there, and all he could feel was that sweetly devilish tongue spearing him open to his lover’s great enjoyment. Hannibal was moaning roughly, breath hot on his skin between bouts of tongue fucking. He tickled Will’s balls and licked him voraciously again as Will threw his head back and cried out Hannibal’s name.

“There we are, my love, you see it’s very nice, isn’t it?” Hannibal asked, tenderness and mischief again mingled in his eloquent, sexy voice.

“So nice,” Will moaned, losing sight of his confused shame at the act in which they’d just indulged. “You could really do that all night? You’d _want_ to?”

“Very much, sweet one. I could do it until you came with no further provocation. But now I think, if you are amenable…” He went to the bedside table and removed a tube of lubricant from the drawer. 

Will stared, wide-eyed, at the naked man standing beside the bed with a full erection and messy hair, lips slick with the essence of Will’s most secret pleasure, holding up the lube with a calmly instructional demeanor. He knew, despite the almost funny fact of Hannibal’s commitment to teaching him, that the doctor’s heart had to be hammering just as harshly as his own. This was everything to them, what they had wanted and waited for, what they could share forever after.

“Now, I’ll get my fingers very well lubricated, and then I will fuck you with them,” Hannibal explained, eye-fucking Will in the meantime while his eyes landed darkly on Will’s overwhelmed expression. “This seems like a suitable point to ask your preference regarding protection. I have condoms, if you would like me to use them.”

“Well, you know...um,” Will cleared his throat, shuffling on the bed, but there was nowhere to go; he remained pinned by Hannibal’s desirous gaze, propped up by luxurious pillows. “Uh, when we talked before about how we’ve both been tested and we’re clean. We haven’t been with anyone but each other since we met, of course.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart.” Hannibal set the lube down on the bed near Will’s feet and cupped his face to give him a soft kiss. “I couldn’t want anyone else after seeing you.”

“Given that,” Will swallowed, “And I mean, yes, me too, you’re the only one I want, the one I love. So since that’s the case, I don’t think we need...the condoms?”

“If that’s your wish, I’m quite happy to forgo them.” Hannibal’s eyes flashed with excitement.

“It’s kind of a turn-on for me,” Will blurted, wanting to let himself be bold before shyness made him too nervous again. “The thought of you coming in me.” 

“It’s highly arousing for me as well, Will.” Hannibal patted his cheek and looked into his eyes again as he added, “And you are comfortable with me using my fingers to finish getting you ready?”

“Okay, yes, um...can you tell me before you’re gonna do it, right before?”

Hannibal smiled, “I will, of course.”

After a few more minutes of prolonged teasing, with Hannibal finding an area between his balls and ass which Will had no _idea_ could be so spine-tinglingly sensitive -- and licking, stroking, driving him crazy again, Hannibal kissed him there and announced, “I’m going to squeeze some lubricant onto your hole now. It will be a bit cool, there’s no helping that, and rather sticky. But the more of it we use, the more pleasurable the experience of lovemaking will be for both of us.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Will laughed brightly. He had already learned how to bend his knees and keep his thighs spread, how to hook his arms through the backs of his knees to hold himself as open as possible. He wanted more of absolutely everything there was of Hannibal’s attention.

The lube was indeed cold when it hit his overheated skin, but since he was ready for that, Will didn’t let it bother him. He focused on staying as relaxed as possible. Although he was a novice, he assumed that the more he could keep his muscles loose and free from physical manifestations of his nervousness, the easier it would be for Hannibal to penetrate him.

He _wasn’t_ ready for the way it felt when, after gently telling Will he was about to do so, Hannibal pressed one thick finger just barely inside him. His body immediately tried to clamp down as he gave a small cry of confused pain. Jesus, why was his own physical form trying to deprive him of the very pleasure he wanted above all else? He was frustrated and began to pout again.

“Don’t worry, my love, that is perfectly normal and to be expected. Allow yourself to begin relaxing more with every increase of pressure.” Hannibal applied more lube, then tried again, sliding his finger in to the first knuckle.

Will let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was sweating, shaking all over, but he wasn’t going to let self-consciousness over these facts bother him. Hannibal thought he was beautiful in his every minute reaction, that much was obvious.

“Alright, lovely boy?” Hannibal kissed his ass cheek and massaged him generously as Will murmured, “Yes, I-I think so.”

Will held his legs further apart and inhaled sharply when Hannibal pushed his finger in deeper, as far as it could go. “Hmm-- _ohhhh_...”

“That’s a good boy,” Hannibal praised. He began sliding his finger in and out, and with every repetition this became easier for Will to endure; his muscles stopped locking whenever Hannibal withdrew; the roughness of the initial breaching and friction shifted somehow into a sweet, fluttering sensation of pleasure.

“Oh, wow.” Will grinned, running his trembling fingers through Hannibal’s silky hair. The killer looked up at him, delighted at this show of approval. “Hannibal, that feels so good. Will you show me more?”

“Let’s try with two fingers now,” Hannibal proposed, watching to make sure Will nodded before he continued. 

Will could hardly believe the way his previously tense body began to stretch so easily around the thick pressure of two of Hannibal’s powerful fingers delving deeply. 

“So good, so good, yes,” he moaned, one hand sloppily tugging Hannibal’s hair as the other pulled on the sheets so hard they almost ripped.

“I’m so happy you like it,” Hannibal beamed. “Now, if you are comfortable with the idea, I would very much like to stimulate your prostate.”

“Oh, I don’t know anything about that.” Will shrugged, again baffled. “I trust you if you say it will be nice.”

“So nice, Will, I promise. But at first, it will be a little too intense. It will shock you to just the meeting point between pleasure and discomfort, but the more I continue, once again you will find the pleasure overpowering the pain.”

“Mmm, then I want you to do it, too. Very much.” His blue eyes sparkled with trust and blissful surrender.

“Your beauty is incredibly distracting, Will,” Hannibal confessed, momentarily just as overwhelmed as his younger lover. 

Then he began thrusting his fingers in and out again, muttering in deep thoughtful calculation, “Yes, now, Will, here it comes--” And then his fingertips nudged a spot inside Will that suddenly burst into startling sensation, hot white tendrils of overly stimulating pleasure and a burning rush of painful _too much_ that made Will keen with a loud mewl.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, almost panicking. “Oh, my God, Jesus fucking Christ--” he panted, staring at Hannibal confounded, nearly fearful again, right on the edge -- then he realized all of a sudden,

He was right on the fucking _edge_ \-- the surprise, which was all the pain really was, didn’t matter at all, because white light was starting to warm, then encompass his body from head to toe. Hannibal fucked into him again with both fingers striking the spot and Will almost came.

“Oh!” he shuddered, his face contorted in blissful confusion, neediness growing, “Oh!”

A wicked determination took Hannibal over and he asked darkly, “May I add another finger?”

“Yes--”

Hannibal thrust his hand, deep and hard, three fingers hitting his prostate over and over. Will’s hips shot up and he pulled Hannibal’s hair hard as an orgasm such as he’d never felt suddenly pulsed through his being. “Huh--I -- _Hannibal_ , yes, oh, _God_!”

“Oh, my dear.” Hannibal pulled his fingers out, and he was shaking now, too. He hovered over Will again so they were eye to eye, and then he was caressing Will’s face where he seemed to be burning up, lost in a fever of pleasure. “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to hold out as long as I intended, on the matter of making you come. You were simply too overwhelmingly lovely for me to withstand the notion of showing you how this would feel.”

“Thank you for being impatient,” Will smiled widely, kissing his lips, then nipping his bottom lip with naughty inspiration. “Now will you show me the rest, everything? I’m ready now, baby.”

“Yes, I believe you are.” Hannibal leaned back, kneeling before Will. He drizzled more lube over Will’s hole and slicked himself, a shiver of enjoyment racking his strong body at the feeling and the excited longing for what was about to happen. He was glorious to watch as he came unhinged by their lovemaking. Will felt his own confidence growing in the glow of emotion passing effortlessly, so naturally between them.

“Will, I need you to focus, please.” Hannibal watched as Will nodded “yes,” and then he continued, “I’m going to begin entering you, and it will be much, much more of an intrusion than my fingers were.”

“You’re big,” Will nodded, too euphoric to have any more room for his nerves. 

“Very big, my darling.” Hannibal smiled affectionately at the way his words, not bragging so much as stating simple fact, made Will tremble. He clearly liked that his dirty talk turned Will on, and this made it even more fun for Will. “Despite all of the preparation and lubrication, there will be a brief period of discomfort for you, which I will endeavor to change into pleasure as soon as I can.”

“Hannibal?” Will smiled, focused but still enveloped by a sultry, almost lazy haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

“Yes, my darling?”

Still holding his bulging, dripping cock in one hand, Hannibal raised his brows expectantly, almost as if he slightly feared Will might be too worried about the discomfort element and suddenly want them to stop. He was shaking a little bit too, needing so badly to give himself entirely to Will. It made Will’s heart feel warm and overflowing.

“Fuck me, please.”

Hannibal grinned as Will held his legs wide and aloft. “As I said, your wish is my command, dearest.”

Then Hannibal was pressing himself so carefully inside Will’s tender, tight and throbbing entrance, and all thought of sexy shared amusement faded completely. Will’s mouth fell open on a ragged gasp. “Hannibal!”

He was really being filled up, entirely, by Hannibal, and -- he couldn’t -- too much again --

“Is it too uncomfortable?” Hannibal asked in concern.

“No, it’s too much pleasure. I can’t stand it, not unless you hold me.” Will let go of his legs but left them open and beckoning with Hannibal half-seated inside him. “Kiss me.”

Hannibal’s loving, concerned look deepened into a powerful passion. He leaned over Will and claimed his lips in countless adoring kisses, holding him close so that their hot bodies could meld as one. He pivoted his hips expertly, back and in, slickly pressing all the way inside Will, as far as his thick cock could possibly reach, not-coincidentally nudging his prostate again. 

“Kiss me,” Will gasped, breathless and clingy. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“Never.” Hannibal pressed their foreheads together, letting out a long, shaky exhale. “Will?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to fuck you harder now.” He squeezed Will’s arms, and the press of their bodies together was almost suffocating, the heavy weight of Hannibal barely held back from crushing him; divine, perfect, _them_ , this.

“Yes, please, baby.” Will submitted with his whole being, giving into the sensations rocking his body with incomparable ecstasy, Hannibal fucking him _so_ damn hard and deep, so good with the blistering pleasure resonating inside him -- and he was dimly aware of changes that made it even better -- of Hannibal shifting Will’s body as he pleased, changing their positions to suit their mutual pleasure. It was lovely and right because he _did_ belong to Hannibal, and Hannibal should do as he liked with him, now and forever.

He found himself on hands and knees with Hannibal never neglecting his promise to keep him loved and reassured throughout. He kissed Will’s back, roughly fucking into him with heavy gasps and sighs. Will wondered how it could possibly be, that his own body had been designed to hold so much joy, intolerable closeness and rawness of intimacy, something he _had_ to have -- he was going to be greedy with their sex, he realized, absolutely insatiable.

“Fuck me until you come, baby,” he begged. 

Hannibal growled and pushed Will flat to the bed, a hand tight on the small of Will’s back as he thrust with merciless lust. “Will,” he grunted against the pleasure mounting uncontrollably inside him, making him rut like an animal, their skin slapping together audibly with a slippery wet squelch, more small details of naughtiness that made Will moan.

“It’s -- going to --” Poor Hannibal was still trying to prepare Will so that he wouldn’t be alarmed by the next new experience. “It will feel--”

“That’s okay, baby. Show me how it feels. Fill me up, give it to me,” Will begged, his voice throaty.

Hannibal thrust a few more times before coming hard with a loud groan, and Will whimpered at the feeling of wet seed spreading inside him. He had never been so completely certain he was properly owned and held and claimed by his lover. “So nice,” he smiled, delirious.

And as Hannibal held him afterwards, Will snuggled into his delightfully furry chest and savored the feverish thud of his lover’s heartbeat against his own ear. Hannibal couldn’t form words then; he just caressed lazily over Will’s back, then reached down to pull the sheets up to Will’s shoulders.

Finally, after a few more minutes of bliss-thick silence between them, Hannibal murmured solicitously, “Are you comfortable, my dear?”

“Yes, very.” Will draped his leg over Hannibal’s and asked with a contented sigh, “Are there lots of different ways for us to make love?”

“Indeed, I can conjure nearly countless variations,” and now Hannibal _was_ bragging, brazenly at that. Will laughed. “For example, if you wanted me to, I could be much rougher. If the mood should strike, and you would be open to exploring that.”

“Would you,” Will giggled again, bashfulness returning. “I mean, would you spank me?”

“Oh, yes, I would love to. I would spank you raw, my darling, but you would beg me for more even as your lovely ass ached under my harsh attentions. You are the naughtiest, most provocative creature I’ve ever been privileged to set eyes on.”

Will reddened with a shiver. “I might be inclined to get into trouble on purpose, then.”

“Yes, please do. But there are many other ways we can explore and enjoy each other. I’m in awe of your beauty and your capacity for love where I am concerned...despite all of the reasons you should have run from me everytime, you’re here. Somehow.” Hannibal clung to him then.

“Not somehow, baby.” Will felt the older man’s insecure confusion flaring up again and hugged him back, just as tightly. “I love you and you’re mine. The only place I’ll ever run is _to_ you.”

“I hope so,” Hannibal acknowledged, a complicated tenderness making his voice weak.

“Just promise me one thing, because I know how your mind works.” Will’s gently teasing tone helped to relax Hannibal; the tension in his body eased up at once. “Don’t propose to me five minutes from now, or tomorrow night or whatever. I’m too young!”

“I suppose twenty is rather on the young side to be entering into matrimony,” Hannibal reasoned. “But even an engagement…”

“No, Hannibal,” Will chided lovingly. “You’ll wait. At least...five years.”

“Five years?” Hannibal sighed in resignation. “You’re quite impossible. How can I possibly endure such a period of waiting before I see my ring on your finger?”

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Will promised, kissing the tip of his nose, both his cheeks, and then his mouth, soft and open, a prelude for more overt affections as Hannibal’s hands started inevitably wandering his body again. “I’ll keep you very busy.”


	8. Epilogue

“ _I knew everything when I was young_ ”  
-Taylor Swift

  
**Exactly Five Years Later**

“Hannibal,” Will giggled, almost choking on his cereal, “Please, not now.”

He looked down at his adorable boyfriend who had gone down on one knee next to his chair at their breakfast table. Hannibal had one hand in his pocket, clearly reaching for a ring, and at the same time Will’s heart swelled with excitement, he knew this wasn’t quite the right moment.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Will,” Hannibal smiled, used to being rebuffed; indominably committed to his cause nonetheless. He stayed down there on his knee for a few moments in case Will changed his mind.

“I’m eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” Will pointed out. “I’m wearing pajamas with little cartoon dogs on them. Is this how you want to remember us getting engaged?”

“I gave you those pajamas,” Hannibal answered smoothly. Patting Will’s knee where small scotties marched merrily along across the soft red fabric, he added, “I would not have done so if I had misgivings with the occasions on which you might wear them.”

Although he’d once again deferred, Will was grinning from ear to ear, cheeks pink, hair charmingly sleep-rumpled. An angel before Hannibal’s eyes, one with whom it was impossible to remain frustrated. “I still think we should wait,” Will insisted, kissing his lover’s cheek when the older man sighed.

Resigned once more to the waiting, he went back to his chair and sat down in front of his oatmeal, unperturbed. Just as he had submitted to Will’s request that one morning a week he skip making complicated omelets, frittatas and quiches so that they could simply relax at breakfast, he could continue submitting to Will’s preferences in the matter of their proposal.

After all, Will only said, “Not yet.” He never said “No.” Hannibal could live the rest of his life happily coasting along on that bright hope of a someday “Yes.”

Of course he was _not_ becoming impatient.

***

“Even your roommate from college is engaged by now,” Hannibal said by way of opening the subject back up during their afternoon errand, a trip to the farmer’s market near the small, rural town in Virginia where they’d settled. 

Will had finished graduate school a few months earlier, after several breaks which they spent touring Europe. Despite taking all the time off he liked, Will had quickly become the shining star of his class, and was currently considering several teaching jobs which had been offered him upon completing his course of studies. He even had an opportunity to teach about criminal psychology at the FBI Academy, a great honor for one so young. It all had to do with his post-grad dissertation on the misunderstood motivations of serial killers. “So empathetic,” his instructors had marveled, “Like a killer’s-eye view on the criminal mind, irresistibly compelling….”

It takes one to know one, after all, but Will had been deftly able to pass off his unique understanding of serial killers by way of his shy, innocent demeanor, brilliantly insightful psychoanalytical abilities, and high level of empathy.

Hannibal was perfectly content to retire from surgery into the field of psychology himself. He was bored with his previous occupation and delighted to apply his skills to a new form of manipulative menace. And now that they had made a new start and allowed enough time to go by, it was permissible as far as Will was concerned, that they take the occasional victim.

Will’s savagery in the hunt, the beauty of him feral with blood on his teeth and pure deadly evil in his eyes, was beyond the most elaborate fantasy Hannibal had indulged in anticipation of it. They were ideal partners, with Will a brutal animal in the darkness, Hannibal there to direct his wildness and keep him from overdosing on the thrill of the hunt. It seemed there was nothing too intimate for them to share.

Life could not be grander, in short, except that Hannibal still longed to see his golden ring encircling Will’s lovely finger, letting the world know to whom this beautiful, brilliant boy belonged. Reassuring him with every heartbeat that they would never part. Was he insecure, greedy, or easily aroused by the idea of claiming Will?

_Yes._

“No,” Will replied, distracted as he examined a fresh crop of cabbages. “Grady’s not engaged yet, just in a very good relationship. He seems really happy with Sage. Got an email from him yesterday and he said he’s going to meet her parents this weekend.”

Will did not generally much concern himself with meal planning, so Hannibal smirked at his sudden fascination with the vegetables on display. Could it be that his boyfriend had a case of butterflies in his stomach over the idea of being proposed to? Was that part of his continual delays? 

“I’m delighted to hear of Grady’s good fortune,” Hannibal lied. He really couldn’t care less, although he was glad the vagrant-looking fellow had been a loyal friend to Will.

“You couldn’t care less,” Will rolled his eyes and chuckled, then took Hannibal’s hand as they strolled through the market. It was a beautiful day, and Ricki had elected to steal a nap in a sunny patch of grass nearby. “You’re just looking for more excuses to propose yourself.”

“I don’t need an excuse.” Hannibal frowned, his hand going looser in Will’s. “I love you. Exactly five years ago, you told me to wait five years. I ask you to excuse my impatience in the matter. I’m sorry if I’ve been a nuisance about it.”

“ _Hannibal,_ ” Will groaned, looking guilty. “C’mon, it’s not like that--”

“Really, Will? Because that’s exactly how it feels.” Hannibal snatched his hand away and stalked off to the car in a huff.

***

After sitting in smoldering silence, staring out the window with a stony expression for several miles, Hannibal looked around in mild surprise when Will pulled the car into one of their favorite local parks. 

“I want to talk about it,” Will said, adjusting his glasses nervously, looking so determined with his boyish face and vivid blue eyes that never failed to pierce Hannibal’s soul. “Can we talk about it?”

“Circumstances have rather obviously exposed my inability to say no to you,” Hannibal retorted drily.

“That’s a yes, then,” Will replied, not frustrated or exhausted like almost anyone else would be with Hannibal’s overly verbose manner and snobby attitude when he was mad. Instead, his eyes shone with gentle humor and pure love.

It wasn’t that Will never got angry with him; they had their share of arguments over Hannibal’s difficulty in loosening the reins of control when he took it too far, or his tendency to shut down emotionally when he felt as vulnerable as he did now. But the fights never lasted, any more than they did when Hannibal was the angry one, in which case it usually concluded with Will receiving a sound enough spanking to make his boyfriend suspect he had indeed been naughty on purpose.

It was that Will could be obnoxiously patient, and when he was upset Hannibal found it difficult to take. Why did he have to be the one who continually made things complicated and then hid away like a frightened child behind a mask of pride? He felt he wasn’t enough to keep Will, to make him happy forever. Perhaps Will had surpassed him and he’d feared it all along.

Will whistled softly and Ricki hopped out of the car so he could click on her leash, and they set off down a pretty walking trail amidst tall trees. Hannibal was silent and sullen again until they got to their favorite spot, an old-fashioned wooden bridge with rails twined by glossy green vines. Red-faced, heavy-hearted and painfully self-conscious, Hannibal wouldn’t have minded if he stepped suddenly onto an unfortunately nonexistent weak spot in the aged wood and plummeted to the river below.

Perhaps it would be a suitable punishment for his possessive nature which only kept his own insecurities on bold display. 

Ricki seemed to intuit they were going to act like Serious Parents again, and found another nice place to rest, most likely hoping they would let her off the leash at the meadow which lay ahead, in recompense for making her wait during all this boring discussion.

“ _You_ ,” Will blurted, taking Hannibal by the hands and making it very hard to avoid meeting those searching cobalt eyes, steady and true. 

Hannibal looked at him with faltering composure. He held Will’s hands in return, not indulging further immature acts of pretending he wanted anything else.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Will asked, his voice strangely caught between laughter and tears. In his face, there was everything, emotions running the gamut from overwhelming joy and unfettered adoration to scolding and upset. “Don’t you know, Hannibal?”

Hannibal felt like he was staring at the sun; the beauty and overwhelming outburst of feeling struck him down like having his eyes burned. He stared down at his feet in their shiny loafers and muttered, “I hope so. I know I am often, as you say, ‘a lot.’”

“You’re demanding, excessive, controlling, possessive --” Will squeezed his palms, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over Hannibal’s hands in a way that made it easier to take the hard truths being spoken. “I love your excess. I like you in control. I want you to possess me. You never say no to me when I ask you to tone it down or tell you I need space, even when I can tell it breaks your heart because you can’t stand the feeling of chaos that comes when you have to do that. Your ability to let me _be_ when I ask you is just as important to me as every other wonderful thing about you -- and Hannibal, there are hundreds, probably _thousands_ of wonderful things about you.”

“I understand if you want me to wait longer, or even if you wish to set aside the idea of marriage altogether, mylimasis.” Hannibal sniffed, fighting back tears. He felt intolerably stripped down and lost inside himself. But he would accept a life with Will without any rings or formal commitment, if it was what Will needed. “You do not need to make any special professions to help me accept it.”

“I’ll make as many special professions as I like, as a matter of fact, you stubborn, gorgeous, impossible man.” Will’s chiding had taken a turn that made Hannibal’s heart somersault. He managed to look him full in the face again, blown away by the tenderness he found there.

“As you wish,” Hannibal replied, deeply confused, although his mortification was slightly subdued.

“Try this one on for size,” Will suggested. He went down on one knee and reached into Hannibal’s pocket where he knew perfectly well the ring was. 

Hannibal could have fainted. His feet wobbled slightly and the world swooned out of focus. Thankfully, Ricki gave a delighted bark as if she actually knew what Will was up to, and the sudden noise restored Hannibal to the moment.

“Put this on my finger,” Will requested calmly, though his eyes were glowing with tears that soon trickled down his cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to marry you. The answer was always yes, even before I was ready. I just wanted us to _be_ for some years first, to see if we worked out as a couple, if we would stay comfortable and feel right. We’re so right.”

“I think you are proposing to me, Will,” Hannibal whispered, and Will laughed: “ _Yes!_ ”

“I’m very much inclined to accept your hand in marriage, in that case,” Hannibal continued, sliding the ring onto Will’s finger at last. It looked just as he’d always dreamed, a circle of gold with subtle, elegant etching to state their forever love.

“This was my grandfather’s ring,” Will smiled, taking a ring from his own pocket and placing it on Hannibal’s finger much to the older man’s surprise. “I was going to have it restored soon because it’s old, wasn’t that fancy to begin with, and you know. I wanted it to look amazing for you. He was the one person in my family that always cared and looked out for me, and he said someday this could be my wedding ring. But I want it to be yours, and I want your ring.”

“No ring, no matter how shining or perfect, could be equal to the beauty of this gesture.” Hannibal cried happy tears, through which he added, examining the plain band more closely, “Although we will certainly have this restored in the near future.”

They both laughed at that, and Hannibal pulled Will back up to his feet with a playful, mischievous yank, hugging him close and kissing him ecstatically. Ricki yelped with joy and lept up on them, then bounced around the bridge in exultation until she tired herself out again.

In the meantime, Hannibal kissed Will’s teary cheek and assured him, “I mean it, Will. This ring means everything to me, as you do. I shall wear it proudly everywhere -- to dinner tonight, perhaps, in celebration…”

“I’ve already made a reservation at that little French place you’ve been wanting to try. I was gonna try and keep stalling you until I could get to the jeweler, but Jesus, you’re persistent.” Will looked around to make sure no one was watching, and on finding they were still alone on the bridge, he gave Hannibal’s ass a naughty squeeze. 

“Where you are concerned, I am nothing if not most earnestly committed.” Hannibal’s brown eyes were warm as the sunny day, and Will kissed his lips with a special, new excitement. The excitement of planning guest lists and arguing over a small, rustic venue versus a posh, traditional one, and having angry sex then compromising, the excitement of sharing their love with friends and colleagues, then a honeymoon somewhere especially sultry. A long honeymoon.

“I fell from the rooftop the moment our eyes met at that party,” Will confided, pressing his forehead to Hannibal’s. Their fingers laced together, and they were starting to notice the change, the small weight of the rings representing their commitment, the way it only enhanced the love they knew could never be denied or diminished. Hannibal had known it always, even in his strange fits of passionate confusion, and Will had known it in all his youthful wisdom.

“I’m still falling,” Will said against Hannibal’s lips, “I’ll always be falling for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that went differently than I expected -- I really didn't know Hannibal was going to get so frustrated in the farmer's market scene but these two have minds of their own! Ultimately I'm glad it worked out the way it did <3 Hope you enjoyed the conclusion and thanks for reading! <3333


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